If the world were a flower,
it would be a rose.
For though it contains beauty,
it can only be seen to those
who open their eyes and
take a good look,
at all the patience
and time it took,
to create and change it,
manage and maintain it.
But every rose has a thorn,
As one man once said.
And the thorn of this world
Is not yet dead.
We fight and battle,
Steal and rattle
The hearts of others
Without a thought
As to whom it bothers.
We're angry and sad
Yet joyful and glad.
We don't stop to think
How lucky we are.
And if we don't see,
The thorn and the flower,
Living together,
In equal power.
Then we are blind to see,
This world of ours,
For what it is,
For what it isn't
And what we should love.
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