Beneath The Roses

Beneath the roses there’s a darkness I can’t describe.

A parasitic beauty dressed up as divine.

They gift them with praise, call them gentle and kind—

But I feel every thorn as it tears through my mind.

They climb over others to bask in the sun,

A perfect veneer, but a cruel, cunning one.

The world sees romance, devotion, and care—

But they don’t feel the roots pulling tight in my hair.

Effort goes unseen. I play my part.

Wearing duty as armour. Silence as art.

Every breath rehearsed, every glance just right—

A mask so polished, I vanish right from sight.

I’m suffocated by who they want me to be,

By the prickles of perfection expected of me.

Not the wild thing I am, but the rose they select—

Pruned into silence. My colours unchecked.

“Get a real job. Be normal. Fall in line.”

But their version of living kills all that is mine.

I twist in the shadows while they soak up the light.

They grow ever upward, and I cling just to fight.

Five years on, and I still search for the good,

Though I’ve learned to expect way less than I should.

Praying the patterns might prove me wrong—

Pretty words. Polite smiles. The same tired fucking song.

Always polished and primed, facades so well set,

But peel them back, and there are truths that you will regret.

I’ve been punished for hope. Punished for care.

Their version of beauty leaves you gasping for air.

I tilt my head, hoping the thoughts slip away,

Somewhere softer than here.

Somewhere far from today.

I’ve grown from the hurt, though the cracks still reflect,

Yet I stay, with my presence, giving more than I will ever collect.

Beneath the roses, there is no neat ending,

no tidy release, no sudden mending.

Only the weight of what beauty can hide,

thorns in the shadows, roots twisting inside.

Still perfect, still adorned, yet jagged, unspoken—

A body still breathing, still bleeding, still broken.

Credits:

Model: @kinkyK1999
Photographer and rigger: @bexbunny_
Assisted by: @nera.pece
Studio: @shibarilounge