Gilded

Mon, 06/17/2019 - 19:52 -- breemk

I am not a pink bloom

With its free-spirited nature

Nor am I the alluring red

I am a white rose

 

Many have made attempts

To inject me with dye

And while it took for a while

It was not my true color

And with care, it bled out

Underneath it all, I am still the same milky color

Now blinding and filled with vibrancy

 

It is only when I sit

Dormant, my petals curling at the edges

Getting stiff from the time

Slowly my white turns a pale shade of gold

 

It takes one to turn their eye to me

When time rushes by

And my petals have fallen

When I am but a stem

I will still always be

The gilded rose, glistening beneath it all

 

So don't tell me

That I am worthless

Because I shimmer

Regardless of your words

 

I am worth so much more than being thrown in the garbage

For I am an impassioned riot and a beautiful rose

 

This poem is about: 
Me
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