Your Poetry Dot Com - Rose to Her Thorns

Mary remembers it all
How it started, when it began
When she went into this lull

Long ago, when Mary was young and pure
Her confidence was taken away
Her spirit stomped in dirt

Night after night of the same old thing
Trying so hard to please him
But all Mary ever got was swearing and screaming

The aweful things she was called
Have stayed with her
Mary's mind is weak, her heart stalled

A seed of saddness has grown
A strong, thorny plant of hate and pain
Is one thing she can call her own

A part of who she is today
But you see, Mary has some power
She can change in one way

To the thorns, she's adding a flower
If Mary can't be beautiful inside
If she has to be dumb, slow, and bitter
Then with the outside she can hide

Manipulate, transform, mutate
Control, force, until Mary dies
Something to strive for
It hides the pain
She can put it all behind a closed door

This consumes, it eats away
But Mary will be a rose
So very delicate and beautiful,
No one sees the thorns

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