Rose Wilts

August 11, 2010
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You’re beautiful,
There’s no doubt.

Eyes like polished emeralds,
Beneath red wine curls.
A fresh face where painted
Freckles clash with fair skin.

Full lips that always seem
To be pulled back, smiling.
But I can see past your
Feeble attempts to hide.

There laughter’s a knife.
It slowly cuts its way
Through all the mess
That is you.

You’re a wilting Rose,
Slowly dying inside.





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