If love were rose (a poem)

If love were a flower
It probably be a rose
its graceful petals bloom
day by day
as the wind blows
It can be lovely
and it can be dark
on the stem of it
is deadly thorns
slowly cutting its foes
do you still pick love?
You have been warned
So does love really represent a rose?
Know one knows.




Hey, guys, I hope you enjoyed this one. I'm not even kidding when I say this but at 10:45 at night I suddenly got up and wrote this one down. I usually go to bed by 9:30-10:00 so I was past my bedtime. Anyways peace out people! See you later!

-Anushka

~Update time!~

Hello everyone! Its been a while but I have a huge update! On this blog, you'll find topics of EVERYTHING! But I am starting two new books which I will be posting regularly from now on. If you like scarves stay tuned because I have a HUGE product about that coming out. Also if I miss a day of posting please forgive me and keep in mind I also have my school work and daily life to live but with that said I'll see you soon!
If you have any requests please feel free to do so. If you want to say hello feel free! I'll do my best to respond!

A uncut coal with glasses named "Anushka" See threw Quartz Ch-2

See threw Quartz
Ch-2

I never knew so much about rocks but somehow I could relate to them so well. My little hobby started off as a child. I used to walk alongside the beaches in Dubi and find the most beautiful of stones. I saw so much beauty that I was overwhelmed to the point that I took my school head on thinking that everything would be all right. Strangely even though I was just a common coal the quartzes would still pick on me. I wasn’t surprised they were a stone that was see threw. My miners told me that the way they looked would usually represent the person, although they told me to always stick with my gut and never judge rock book by its shine. It would go on where they would make fun of me for not being as polished and perfect as they were. Instead of trying to shatter or break them I kept my head down low and let the years go by one by one.

An uncut coal with glasses named “Anushka”

                                  An uncut rock with glasses named
                                                 “Anushka”

Oh intros, have I ever told you how much I hate yet love them? It’s like when you start off and you’re like what am I gonna say? or what am I gonna do and then halfway in between you think to your self will readers like this? Will they like me? Will they put down this book? So let’s start off fresh. I am a rock. A rock that hasn’t been cut and used to its full potential. I’ve just been dug out of the ground so I don’t have much experience on being “myself”, well at least not. Although by miners…who love and care for me very much keep trying to make me perfect. There are days when they adore showing me off to the cruel stone cold world while other days they shake their heads in disgrace and hide me away. As I sit in the car I look at all the beautiful stones all around me, I see amethysts, rubies, quartz’s, garnets, periods, topazes, opals, emeralds, sapphires and so many other rocks on the rock farm. All of them where so uncut and they had so many scrapes on them I blended perfectly with them. So I thought. Who knew that I would be the only piece of coal there?