You are as beautiful as the roses, with your sweet essence, graceful neck and your blood red lips. When your color fades and your hauntingly sweet scent fades, you will remain beautiful. When death’s grip devours your soul, with your helplessness and fright, you will remain beautiful, even then. When your long neck, just like the rose’s stem, wilts, and your beautiful hair, just like petals, lose their brilliance and turn a brown significantly similar to dried blood, you will remain beautiful. When your delicate hands become weak and frail, and your long slender arms lose their grace and elegance, you will still be beautiful. Dead or alive, you are beautiful.