I was told that roses are red.
But my roses are chocolate.
Far from a candy coated floral creation.
This sweet sleeve of a masterpiece is tattooed on me.
Each petal, planted in its proper place.
No vines green of envy are allowed any space.
These Hershey kissed buds on my skin were meant to blossom into the same love and hate.
From the seeds of people I’ve learned lessons from.
More than just a Valentine’s Day cliché.
These bushes of beauty represent the people I’ve lost.
The people I love…
And the few I never even cared about.
We buy these bundles of beauty in stores not really taking the time out to understand.
What placed them in that position?
Who decides on which roses stays in the fields as the others go on sale?
Not knowing what it took just to reach the point of being picked out for an occasion.
Not realizing that each one of those seeds grew a different type of story through it’s very own soil.
Not every rose may have been kept up and cared for.
Not every rose may have my been fertilized and fashioned to society’s liking.
I’m sure there are roses every day that don’t make the cut just because of the color they chose to blossom into.
Refusing to grow like the rest of bunch.
Embracing the adversity and still sprouting through the sand.
Far too focused and strong to let the stress takeover from the rain that never arrives.
Learning to trust and believe in the things they strive for every day.
Understanding that even when the sun turns it’s back on them.
There is a bright side somewhere waiting to be discovered.
Realizing that every leaf that sprouts, will not make it to the floral finish line.
There are weeds disguised throughout your life that will attempt to stunt your growth.
Weeds, secretly soiled with lies and watered by betrayal.
Attempting to hold you down beside them in their field of failure.
Jealous, of seeing you start from the very bottom of the ground.
And witnessing you bloom into a bright future.
We just use their fear as fertilizer.
And through every rose bud, there is a battle.
Many of us are captured by their attraction.
But how many of you felt the same thorns they went through?
How many of you were pricked into shedding the same color that stains each petal you adore.
Scattered over your bed and floor during that romantic night?
We sometimes forget what looks so delightful, can also be dangerous.
Just like how a simple smile can distract the rest from your true stress.
A rose can be the perfect representation of love in a wedding.
Then turn around and be the proper pick for a loss in a casket.
I guess it’s okay to say that they were made to be a love or hate bouquet.
But before the sun, follows the rain.
And even the most beautiful rose has thorns that can cause pain.
But every day we choose to live.
Is another opportunity to increase our intelligence.
To value ourselves and love diversity.
Constantly learning from life or university.
We were not created just to settle and sustain pain.
Unlike these roses, we have the right to fight for what we believe in.
We were not born to be enslaved and shown off for others appreciation.
We have a choice, to speak our mind louder than waterfalls dancing with tsunamis.
Spread the love like wild fires.
And let everything it touches burn with affection.
Hatred only causes things to rot.
We do not depend on the sun to determine our destiny.
We do not wait for the rain to shower our stress away.
We only see the ground as a memory from where we first started up.
You were born to build your own life.
Be bold!
Be brave!
And never stop believing in yourself!
So plant a seed into your heart.
And watch it grow from everything you’ve placed your time into.
Roses usually come in a dozen, but your dreams should always be limitless.
I wear these roses to remind me of how my life’s been.
There are lessons on these leaves.
And every time I stare at them.
They show me I still have more growing up to do.
-Ricky “Randum” Maeweather
Ricky Maeweather 