Red Rose

I am but the root of a plant/ 
hiding from the sky/ 
sending my leaf minions out to spy/ 
so when you look at me/ 
remember I am not visible to the eye/ 
all you see but green vein vines and red roses/ 
red roses growing thorns like sharp acrylic nails/ 
twisting into sign language only I know/ 
and when you dig me up/ 
remember I can only last so long/ 
/unearthed.

--Mayaprimavera F., Adult