The Rose and the Hail

A delicate white rose
With long silk hands
Hides beneath a thin glass dome
When she sees a hailstorm coming

She is shielded by her dome
She thinks it will protect her
But in her soul she knows
It does not exist

The rose believes in the dome
She knows it will save her
But deep inside she knows
It's only in her mind

Hard the hail hits her
But she pretends she can't feel it
Her back is turned to it
She knows her dome will protect her

But reality wins
The hail hits her skin and her soul
Even as she denies it
The bruises will only come back to haunt her

Her pure silk hands
Expose trustingly to the sky
For the glove's flesh is vulnerable
But she prays for sunshine in denial

All the sky brings her is hail