pick a rose

The unbearable call to burn it all

somehow a city formed around a wall

how can a criminal be called a boss?

I investigate my own pain so I won’t be caught

When I hung the rope, a voice said don’t give up

The showers cold water cut me as I froze

I’m not the one to pick a rose

But the journey tried to steal my hope

I asked for permission but never heard no

So I went down a path that taught me to cope

Maybe I’m wrong half the time

It doesn’t mean my poems must rhyme