Rose

Rose (feminine growth)
 
Spare time, for these honest words.
As I try to paint the picture of our love for each other
 
As the task seems to be unanswerable  
As yet, our bond and love keeps growing stronger
 
For troubled women, there is only flowers
 With brief hugs from a self-earned love one needed
 
For women with scars of the one that demand entitlement
There is only the search for mere prayer, and the site of a dream imagined of real happiness.
 
And yet, a sombering dream that glimes in the mind
Approached by the despoiling of a flowers petals being clipped off  
So disobedient, is begin to break all the rule in search of a new form other than its old and past self,  
 
Something furiously different and greater, like it’s past self, but more beautiful.
Something like rose, broken out of its stem, that has always been imagined  
 
A pure and realistic heart pulse, a real dream breathing and happening.  
Since you’ve grown, out of those dark places, I imagine, it was not easy.
 
Trying to balance out the pattern you see happing, from with much growth
And success comes a strong reward, but an immense amount of sacrifice of pain.
 
 
 
And with that life still seems to come and bring back old memories
But surely putting old dreams in the grave,
For all wished woman who want power do suffer greater, than the ones who oversee to discern to  
Possibilities of grasping it, those see only nothing but air in the eyes of thee.
 
And with that, of an inception of enlightenment has started. You to grow so very well on your own, onto finding new crossed roads, of a journey split into endless odds and outcomes.  
 
Not knowing where they lead to.
 You do suppose you’ll always want to take the one that leads you strait to home.
 
A welcoming faction, of friends and bloodlines bestowed.
 
“Sure putting your heart and thought is in the process of making it happen, but you always seem to somberly think it away in your mind. It’s possible and that easy”
 
“Why haven’t you gotten married, why do you not go case those dreams and be ambitious, I thought you were reborn” a chattering laugh from the mind.
 
When will it really happen? When there is no hope, and there is no back up to fall back on, it seems like your standing on the pen waiting to fall over, but yet you can only decide when to lose your balance, sadly that only if you can focus hard enough, and you speed most of your time worrying about others and what they want but not your own you feel ashamed to have ever loved and been kind in the first place. there's alot to say, but not enough tears to heal or be given, so reluctant on memory it seems to now get in the way as an embarrassment. Suppose we compare our lives to others and think we could be like them, or in fact feel pity on ourselves and intact that life is going on some where else but is beating under out thick skin and strong hearts.  
Suppose we do imagine we are well together, and we should think consciously on what we say, it really doesn’t matter! You’ll still be that flower… With the same beauty and color... but also with the thorns. Grown in by nature, but of a different purpose, than what you think or see. Those thorns are made to hold water, and they are made to nature yourself, and your offspring, and your duty as a health-met to care.
Nothing to be ashamed of or embraced out, especially being different from other flowers, it’s all by your conscience of acceptance, only you can do and provide in an aspiring hope, to inspire and to aspire.
 for others, but most of all my dear rose, don't forget yourself...
Suppose we do imagine all of this, in the near future. About all the hope we do imagine, and that it brings you much closer in achieving it, and closer to more lies, by choices given by the heart, but more opportunities by choices given by the knowledge.  
Hope it does bring you closer to your conscience, and farther away from precious feelings, of past regret,
And from times where you don’t even feel you exist, or matter, looking at the walls you put yourself in at, three am in the morning
There seems to be some magic a foot, some parallel hope, some where, it just needs to be found, somewhere in this darkness, you’ll find the door you're looking for.
 
The hope we choose to wrap our-selves around does indeed describe the box that were shaped in,
 But that is only if we choose to let our knowledge wrap us around and make us, withier we choose to accept it or discern it is by our choosing.
A present only meant to bring happiness, is inside ourselves.
 
And then suggest why not just no longer think about all the bad things surrounded by us in the darkness, when you truly know there is beauty and light inside you, and happiness waiting to be found, when opened.