Source: Google |
I am the rose, supposed to bloom in a glossy jar
You can hear my cry, from the far.
How am I supposed to bloom, when I am sealed?
How could you not see, when I am not able to conceal?
They say they love me yet imprison my soul
How could loving be so cruel?
They hail my beauty yet strangle my right
I live thousand deaths making their life bright.
I am the rose that will never raise
Yet they will admire and praise.
The red and the most beautiful in a garden
They say but red as I bleed with a burden.