The Rose

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The rose, see how it stands alone
Unwavering against a world full of hate
Yet it has always known
To follow along and not debate.

Fresh morning dew dully glistens
Here reason knows no bounds
Obediently the world listens
To the roses's silent sounds.

Scars of love are always remembered in pain
Yet that pain will eventually fade away
Leaving behind an unseen stain
That will forever stay.

Ah, the rose, it starts to bend
Taking a small bow of respect
To the unforgiving wind
Revealing hidden intellect.

What has Nature wrought
Within this fragile rose?
The ability of thought
Is just one thing it knows.

Love is another hidden element
Its heart has not yet broken
But has merely just been bent
Many creases show love's token.

The rose, graced by a single thorn
Reminds of pain inflicted by something small
Still it is free from feeling scorn
Which could lead to its downfall.

Learn from the rose, from its beauty
Unprotected and alone it still stands
Do not let faith guide emotion, think clearly
Let the world listen to silent demands.





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