Some people love roses, and grow gardens full of them. They feel that they the beauty and scent of the rose more than outweights the occasional thorn prick.
From a twisted, thorny bush springs great beauty. And to appreciate that beauty, we must accept the accompanying barbs. Is this a metaphor for life?
Roses are Liars
The narrative of the rose is the flower, which is fleeting. The enduring, year-round reality of the rose is the thorn. When the petals wither and drop, the thorn endures. When the seasons turn and the trees are bare, the thorn endures. Even when completely lifeless, a rose bush retains its fangs.
Just Say No
There are hundreds, nay thousands, of other flowers out there that don’t come along with a side of thorny baggage. Flowers that don’t need you to endure their torments, because they give freely without a blood penalty. The rose needs you to overlook the reality, and focus on the lie:
I’m worth it right? Don’t worry about those cuts on your hand; look at how beautiful I am…
Just no. Tear those prickly bastards out and don’t look back - there are myriad better options. A thorn bush by any other name would be shown no mercy; see the reality for what it is.