The Only Girl

The Only Girl

The only girl amidst the men,
A rose with many thorns.
Some are blunt, some are sharp,
But all, a protecting thorn for you.

The stem on which you grow,
Dead and withered in parts.
But yours still the prettiest,
A beauty yet unseen.
A beauty that can not be seen,
Not by them, him, or me.
A beauty incomparable,
A beauty never to be beheld.

A life lived behind a mask,
A mask unknown, by those who see it.
A mask in a collection,
Hanging on a wall.
Grouped together,
Like a bukeye of roses.

You are the only girl,
A white rose in a red arrangement.
Its beauty hidden in the center,
Hidden by, the blood red roses.

The only girl