A Forgotten Rose

You planted a seed you forgot to water. 
Fed it hate till it grew into a Rose with poisonous thorns.
Beguiled you are as you watch her beauty, forgetting she grew with thorns.
You let down your guard and let a thorn breach your skin.
You’ve given her a taste of your blood and now she wants more.

You pluck her and place her in a glass bottle. 
Ruthless and unforgiven you are, but your blood has been drawn.
Your fragile Rose morphs into a thinking being. Contemplating whether you are friend or foe.
“I fed you”. You tell her.
“You fed me hate”. She reminds you.
You glare at your Rose one last time and whisper. “WITHER!”

You make enemies of your weakness not realising your weakness is her greatest strength.
You make friends with her silence, realising her silence gives you a false sense of dominance.
She overlooks your heart and aims for your head. A head shot ought to take him down quicker.
My blood thirsty thorn shall be my weapon.

A silent stare carries intelligence.
Play your last hand and then let her know.
But don’t wear your heart on your sleeve unless it’s your Trump Card.
She won’t play if she’s not in it to win. She won’t win if the prize isn’t worth it.