As a rose will grow, it rises up to thrive. Destroying other flowers, Chances to survive.
All the plants need water, To flow through their veins. But the rose feels more worthy, because in beauty it reins.
All the plants around it, Their peddles will shut. As in the wind and growth, The roses thorns will cut.
Slashing at all the plants, Until they're rotting on the ground. While the rose in it's beauty, Will feel much more sound.
This poem is for all the people who suck the life out of everyone else just because you think your so much better then them. Then have the oddasity to make jokes about them commiting suicide.