the rose
We often see the rose that grew in concrete
And want to pick it
Dismember it from its roots
And its meaning becomes lost in translation
(the rhyme scheme starts)
Nobody asks that rose for its consent
As long as its in our house its content
That rose might like its thorns
But we dont care, it was born
For our pleasure, even if it die
We can pick another one on the fly
That rose might have been a rare strain
But all we see is the leaves, not the strain
And the anguish of growing in an inhospitable condition
All it sees is the sunlight then, boom, its victim
To our whims. Grow here, do this, do that
The roses' wishes loses meaning, hope not intact
The rose is passive, because it lost its means to react
The thorns were clipped off, matter of fact
The rose loses its meaning of life,
And withers in the sun, water cant help its strife
The day changes, and another rose grows
The cycle repeats, but no rose grows old.
This is for our sisters. We think that our sisters are merely here to support us, not realizing that they have aspirations of their own that may not align with our dreams. Why do we have to feel that every rose is ours?
Speak on it brehs. BTW this is an original poem, just made up, courtesy of the Kendrick Lamar album. Dedicated to a special someone. I see a lot of roses that are picked prematurely. Instead of picking them, we should let the garden grow.
Can yall pick up on the analogies? Let's dialogue about this
We often see the rose that grew in concrete
And want to pick it
Dismember it from its roots
And its meaning becomes lost in translation
(the rhyme scheme starts)
Nobody asks that rose for its consent
As long as its in our house its content
That rose might like its thorns
But we dont care, it was born
For our pleasure, even if it die
We can pick another one on the fly
That rose might have been a rare strain
But all we see is the leaves, not the strain
And the anguish of growing in an inhospitable condition
All it sees is the sunlight then, boom, its victim
To our whims. Grow here, do this, do that
The roses' wishes loses meaning, hope not intact
The rose is passive, because it lost its means to react
The thorns were clipped off, matter of fact
The rose loses its meaning of life,
And withers in the sun, water cant help its strife
The day changes, and another rose grows
The cycle repeats, but no rose grows old.
This is for our sisters. We think that our sisters are merely here to support us, not realizing that they have aspirations of their own that may not align with our dreams. Why do we have to feel that every rose is ours?
Speak on it brehs. BTW this is an original poem, just made up, courtesy of the Kendrick Lamar album. Dedicated to a special someone. I see a lot of roses that are picked prematurely. Instead of picking them, we should let the garden grow.
Can yall pick up on the analogies? Let's dialogue about this
