The Rose

May 18, 2009
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Glints of light dripping over velvet skin
Is it tears or rain that vexes your poor soul?
Starved of love your face has grown sad and thin
She’s tiresomely paying her sad toll

Depraved, malicious thoughts consume her mind
Night and day she is tortured by her flaw
Replaced like the last, by one of her kind
Then panic sets in rubbing her skin raw

The comforting grave on which she is placed
She slumbers on soft soil for some peace
Awaiting her demise she’s calmly faced
Now she’s relaxed and panic’s at a cease

For moments she’s held, forthcoming her doom
Then with a snap, she’s gone, and end to her gloom

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