I am a rose, and you are my thorns.
You protect me from strangers, the unwanted, the unknown.
But you also, protect me, from those I don't need protecting from.
My friends, you dig into them, break them down, look for the bad.
To prove that you are my only friend and I don't need them.
But what you don't realise is, I do.
I am rose, fresh.
Ready to be picked.
But I want to be picked, by you.
If you were a rose, I'd pick you, and give you, to you.