I offered a Rose, not a Thorn!🌹
They see a window and mistake it for a void,
A quiet stream for water easily displaced.
Because my hands are open, they assume
I do not know the way a fist is made.
"The world is iron," they say with heavy breath,
"And you are glass, far too easy to be shattered.
Trade in your silk for armor, dull your light,
For in this war, only the hard are mattered."
They offer me their cynicism like a gift,
A roadmap drawn in shadows and in stone.
They call my mercy blindness, a foolish gait,
A lack of muscle I have never shown.
But they do not see the weight it takes to hold
The door ajar against a howling wind.
They do not know that softness is a choice,
A discipline that starts where shadows end.
To look upon the jagged edge of life
And still decide to offer up the rose—
That is not weakness born of hidden eyes,
But a strength that only the resilient know.
So let them call me simple, call me young,
Let them mistake my patience for a daze.
I have seen the dark as clearly as they have;
I simply refuse to mirror back its gaze.
I will not graft their iron to my skin,
Or learn the bitter language of the tray.
If kindness is a gamble, I will bet—
And remain exactly as I am today.
-
Author:
Friendship (
Offline) - Published: April 15th, 2026 10:02
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship
Offline)
Comments4
We don’t give our children rocks when they ask to be fed. How often our good actions can be viewed warily as malicious intent.
thank you
Beautifully done!
thank you
Good write Rose, erm, Friendship!
Thank you,
This poem to me speaks of giving in a world that only takes, of power that always wins where gentleness is not valued. It speaks of there being strength in softness and the decision to stay as one is and count one's strength in that resilience. Well done
Thank you,
You are most welcome my friend
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.