A Rose can be a Weapon

A rose can be a weapon if it is not picked to perfection.

Any little thorn can provide a quick lesson if plucked incorrectly on a given day.

It's funny how I can think of that but still not know what to say.

My silver tongue can't help me convince you, I wish I were not this way.

I am sorry I hurt you. It's clear I was wrong. 

And I’m sorry, I have to say sorry, in some stupid song.

If you need to hate me, by all means.

I know a rose picked by a fool still makes him bleed.

For the longest time, I was stuck in a rut.

When she left, she said I was "not good enough".

I gave her my all, including my trust.

And now here I am at the back of the plane. I look at my life and it’s hard to complain.

It is mostly clear skies with the occasional rain.

Then you came along and knew the words to my song.

You melted my heart, but I knew it was wrong.

Because you made it clear, you were already involved.

And now more than ever, I wonder if my integrity is gone.

If you need to hate me, by all means.

I know a rose picked by a fool still makes him bleed.

Before I stand, I unbuckle my seat so I can grab my bag and get to my feet.

I wait in line to exit the plane, and as I turn to you, I am caught a little off guard as I hear you say, "Do you know which gate we need to get to make our change?"

"Oh, I am not sure, I will have to look. I think maybe gate C?"

While thinking to myself, "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

but picked by a fool, it still makes him bleed.