You could compare thy to a rose...
Not because I’m beautiful. Not because I radiate a sweet red.
I’m the broken rose. Once beautiful ; turned shattered.Petal by petal torn apart. Each segment picked off as though it won’t matter. Individually a petal gone.
Has no impact.
But each petal gone , more bare I become. There’s only so many petals I can loose before I become exposed...
So many fooled by my eye-capturing shade of blood red.Sobered by ones touch , unleashes a sharp thorn. I don’t mean to stab : these thorns are here for protection.
I cant afford for any more petals to be broken.