The Burning Rose

To the burning roses, to the wounded souls. Winter is already welcoming, the ice darkens the gloom. In the heart of the rose blooms a withered flower,a sea of tears, of wounding words, of hurting silence,no one can even count it. Wounding words, humiliation, toxic in every gram. A boa constrictor chokes and sucks out the breath at the executioner’s command,playing the game of fire. Fairy tales about me changing – maybe true, but for the worse. Aphids bite and set the beautiful rose on fire,they ignore her pain and loneliness, instilling their absolute "WISDOM": “No one will want you, no one would love you if it weren’t for me. Many would leave you without remorse, wouldn’t look at you,they would choose their own existence.I am sacrificing myself, be grateful or leave – it’s your business. The game with you is finally over”. A toxic viper kills the sense of worth within you,you doubt your own self – or maybe this is an idyll after all, a faint and distant dream? Not just one such story in the world,either a husband destroys his wife, or a wife destroys her husband,it’s no pain, let them overstrain. Or even worse wounds inflicted on children by parents who do not love them, taking away the freedom of childhood. They use them for work or do not care about them and do not respect them. They don’t listen to their problems, because what for? It’s better to go out to clubs and vanish from the house at night. It doesn’t matter that a child needs warmth and love, not only when they are afraid of the dark. Let us pass then to the wounded rose, around which intruders gather.Toxic venom, lyrical, aphids still bite her and slowly exhaust her, taking away her oxygen imperceptibly. Worse yet – she suffers and cries when she is isolated,though she believes in something better, she catches the last hope of life. Falling into the thicket, she finally realizes that nothing will come of this. Fantasy dreams in her head... she comes out of the trance,out of this destructive march. She rises then into rebellion.She begins to sharpen her thorns, no longer allows pests near her,she does not let herself be intimidated, she runs away from false gardeners. She leaves with class – she doesn’t scream, she doesn’t cry, she doesn’t provoke,because with herself, despite the pain, she feels good. Silence and indifference work best against a toxic mesh,it hurts the most, but it also helps the most to pull away from the viper. “What an insult that I stayed in this, I was almost badly burned,I almost died, withered away...” – whispers the burning rose. Where was I when I wasn’t there? She goes to therapy, takes care of herself, uses conditioners and supplements, she blooms in good soil, joy sprouts within her. She regains hope in good hosts, grow, rose, in fertile soil. Spring will return when you let yourself be helped,welcome to your own interior –