Like a Rose

With layers of blood red petals, it hides the truth.

It blooms, but never reveals its beneath.

Beauty on the outside, but what it is hiding?

Why is it hiding?

Curiousity killed the cat.

It must be the greatest beauty.

With rough and calloused hands,

They tore eagerly at the masks that protected the mystery.

As ruby red diamonds showered down,

The heart of the rose wept.

When the chaos ceased, time ticked its last second.

The discovery was made.

Did the heart of the rose weep in despair for its ugly, naked emptiness exposed?

Or did the heart of the rose cry tears of joy for its truth finally shown?