Many say ugliness comes out of beauty,
But, here I am, telling you a different story.
The world began with thistles and thorns,
And all creatures bore blood-drenched thorns.
In this world, there was girl, lost and alone,
She was running from the evil spirit sitting on the throne.
In that gnarled forest, she covered her face,
To keep from being terrified of that place.
One day she heard that evil spirit coming,
She had to hide, for she was so tired of running.
She found and hid in a bushel of thorns,
Scared and tired she could not help but mourn.
The evil, menacing spirit heard her cry and took her away,
But, as she was taken, her blood began to spray.
The aroma of the blood was oh so fresh,
For the throns tore at her clothes and flesh.
As her blood seeped into the ground,
She was taken to a place she would never be found.
Now, many years later, where her blood was shed,
You can see, within the thorns, blossoms of red.
Out of her pain, the thorns, and her cries,
Came a flower most beautiful to the eyes.
So, you see, beauty was not merely born,
But, like roses, is brought out of thistles and thorns.