The Funeral of My Rose

The Petals crimson in appearance,
stood tall,
flaunting its beauty
,the sky a many wonders,
bore a sun of gild,
it shone down,
a curse illusion of wonder,
sun in its glory,
the sky thrown off,
put the sun to shame,darkness starts to set in,
a white shower falls as if,
bottled up for years,
the crimson tears begin to fall,
one by one,
sense imperfection,
untangible pain runs numb,
mutilation to a life,
so precious.





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