Once upon a time there was a rose who hated her piked thorns. They were so pointy that they harmed anyone who tried to touch the rose and hence, protected her from anyone’s sinful touch. The rose however, felt deprived. Her thorns like barbed wires were ever there to sting anyone who approached her. And indeed no one dared approach her despite of her wondrous beauty that had many in awe. She felt as though she was bereft of all the freedom and love in the world so, one day she cut her thorns with a pair of feisty looking scissors. The leaves forbade her but she paid no heed to them.”Pain for freedom and love” She thought. Now she’ll be visited by many and will be loved, cherished and admired for the thorns were no-more. And indeed came a visitor-a seeker of beautiful things-The Master of Destruction. He came. He touched her soft petals. He decided “No flower in this wild place is beautiful than this rose. I shall have her.” She blushed at this glorification. He using a little force separated her from the plant that gave birth to that beauty without much regret for the plant shall bourne more. He cut her. He took her. Cherished her awhile. When satisfied he left her to wither.
He destroyed her.