White Lily

May 15, 2017
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A weeping lily

Sitting in a field of crimson roses

Thorns sharp

Perfect and pretty

 

The cost of differences

Is more than she can afford

She bleeds the color of their petals

Staining her white purity

 

With tattered innocence

She can no longer hide in the shadows of the night

And withers away

Carried by the wind






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