Lucky sunset can’t be tainted

by a touch, a smudge, or stain.

Velvet rope protected paintings

Vainly prevent proximity

Provided by entitlement

No barrier can contain.

Pivotal women with statues erected

Even they receive no respect.

Under the guise of admiring

People flock with a smile and

Oily mitts manipulate

The bronze of her chest.

Burnished gold bra

Incriminatingly gleams

Lighting the garden

She’d so admired.

The roses bloom

Unfurling before their doom

And one day, become inspired.

Blooms knew beauty demands to be seen

And with more control than people possess

Stayed and waited, eagerly anticipated

Putting their created protection to the test.

It’s only a moment before the hand dives in

Confidently claiming a bundle on a whim

“This is beautiful,” they state the obvious

As they pull violently on the stem.

A pained cry from both person and plant

Retreating grip containing screams

Sigh of relief among bloodstained leaves

Proof the pricks weren’t a pointless dream.

The petals attract no less attention

But now their body confidently flaunts its thorns

Predators that flock to pluck for personal use

Now warily aware of the double edged sword.

Beauty demands acknowledgement

But respect remains to be found

The roses will stay in a state of defense

As long as the need for thorns is around.