Days like today, 

I see myself as a rose. 

Soft petals, red thorns. 


If I let myself be picked,

I hope I am treated well. 

I wouldn’t want to change 

A thing about me. 


If I am picked apart, 

Changed to be like other roses,

I would lose my beauty. 


If you pick off my flawed petals, 

I will wither in your hands. 

Take away my thorns, 

And I lose my protection. 


If I am to be yours, 

Never change a thing about me.

I don’t want to be like other roses.


Let me be me.