Garden of roses.

"You don't know because you've never been hurt" she said,
Right about the time my heart turned black from red.
It was right about the time my spirit awoke from its bed,
It was right about the time your words messed with my head.

How would anyone know what I've dealt with inside?
I have a history too... a history I try to hide.
People haven't always loved me,
and I've been treated pretty beastly.
How would you know what it's like,
to be treated like a tyke?

To have friends whose parents don't think you're good influence,
because they've been poisoned in your absense.
To have people talk behind your back,
and you've gotten used to the attack.
To have changed bestfriends like the seasons,
and to hear their stupid reasons.
And when finally I could settle down,
she moved to a different country, let alone a town!
And that's just a summary of my life,
but what would you know about my strife?

You don't know much about me,
so don't judge me so easily.
A beauty on the outside,
raging emotions could be inside.

"You don't know because you've never been hurt" she said,
though my history is a story of bloodshed.

Go ahead and add a knife,
to my collection of stabbings.
I've accepted it as my life,
and I've got to accept all my bearings.

But when you said I've never been hurt,
It was as if you spat on me and shoved me in the dirt.
Because you may have been pricked my a thorn by friend,
but I am a garden of roses,
which has no end.