The Rose


United States
40° 45' 57.33" N, 73° 52' 6.132" W

There once was a rose.
She was the most beautiful rose I've ever seen,
But, one by one, her petals began to fall.
The first one fell from lying to the world
And lying to herself
Because it was not her secret to tell, but his.
So she burned inside as he continued to hide from his peers,
For she was not his, but a daughter, so dear.
She lost the next one from all the pain he caused her:
A jewel now smashed, each shard a tear
Reminding her of what seemed like endless fear,
For she was not his, but a daughter, so dear.
The third petal dropped as he told her to drop one leg,
Spread the other, turn around,
Exposed her thighs, young caramel-brown.
And he began sexually belittling her rear,
For she was not his, but a daughter, so dear.
One petal dropped to floor
As he pushed her towards the couch and shut the door
And whispered in her ear,
Something no fourteen-year-old girl wants to hear,
"It hurts me to do this, but it feels so good right here."
And she knew what was coming next because
When night came, he came, pain came.
This monster was so near that it all became so clear
That she was his daughter, which made it so bad.
You see, that rose was my sister,
That man was my dad.



I hope to win this scholarship to assist in the payment of college so that I can be an inspiration for my sister and for all girls throughout the world who know even a fraction of what "The Rose" feels like.

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