Ironically, when we met I thought you were the weak one; the pathetic little wallflower in desperate need of something, someone to lean on. Naturally the kinder, softer side of me was attracted to you. I wanted to be know you because I saw a pale kind of pretty in your carefully camouflaged petals. I thought that you would be a nice addition to my bouquet of friends. I saw your thorns, but I thought they were cute. In the way that a kitten is cute baring its fangs. I thought you were harmless, but what I failed to notice was the potential for head turning, dazzling beauty. Perhaps if I had seen that I wouldn’t have let you so close. You were my best friend. I raised you. I introduced you to my world and let you learn our ways. I always believed that you would stay loyal. That you were to plain and soft to ever be any trouble, so I let you closer than anyone else. And that was my downfall. I overlooked you. And one day you blossomed. You shed your pale, unimpressive petals and regrew them in brighter, eye catching shades. I realised you were my competition, but it was already too late. You knew too much and used it to your advantage. And they loved you. I suppose they were sick of me. I was old and you were new and shiny. In our world competitions only end with one victor. That victor was you. You captivated them and quickly stole my crown. And suddenly, I had nothing. People melted away from me until I was left raw and exposed. And all I could do was look up at you and wonder where we went so wrong.