Roses

When a rose dies

People say that it cries

But that doesn't mean

Anything

                 

How could they know

The way it struggled to grow

But though it battled its doom

It never would bloom

                  

Never would it unfold

It's petals so red

As red as the blood

That my fingers have shed

               

In writing this tribute

So we shall all hear

Of the rose, how it struggled

Yet the soil lays bare

              

When a rose dies

People say that it cries...

The End

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