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roses
  velvet petals sway in the breeze, beckoning me to caress
  their delicate leaves
  their colors vary like the tones of humanity,
  veins visible, vulnerable to corruption.
  with no form of protection beyond their beauty,
  yet somehow they remain soft
  perhaps their sweet smell attracts purity,
  or rejects the corruption that infects us.
or perhaps they just have thorns.

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