There was a light at the end of the tunnel that you failed to see.
The colors and smells of this world wouldn't let it be. 
The flower bloomed sweet, but the taste was sour.
Each new branch, extended, devoured.
The thorns piece the fingers, the sap stung the hands.
That was the price, for holding in-hand.
You didn't see, there were soft petals too.
The fragrance and beauty, it didn't speak to you.
Maybe it was too much, your patience wore thin.
But we wouldn't stop admiring, these gifts you've brought it. 
You are the petal and you are the thorn.
We're all so imperfect, I wish you would have known.