Strangled Innocence

January 13, 2009
By Melanie Breunig, Hartland, WI

Like a white rose inhabiting a dying garden, she stood tall and smelled sweet. She possessed few thorns—only enough to survive. Gradually, her thorns dulled; she became vulnerable. One tempestuous night, Gardener came to admire his rose. Being choked by a shameless weed, her once snowy petals were now as black as sin.



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