Are we not both roses grown from the same bush,

Budding and blooming with petals grown flush?

Are your leaves green as the green of my own?

Do your thorns not prick as mine own be known?

Surely our scent be the same, for how could it not?

Yet you’re praised as sweet while I’m passed and forgot.

Does the red hue burn brighter in you,

Or are you more soft and supple in view?

My stalk stands strong and my nectar is sweet,

So why are your hips a more succulent treat?

If our names be the same and our difference so subtle

Why are you cherished and I left for rubble?

When in full bloom do we look not the same?

Our reds and our greens born together they came

And in our old age we’ll both wither and dry.

Wilting out petals and just the same we die.

Yet more desired and beautiful you be.

Sadly, a fate that was never meant for me…

~Cheshire Puss