I came across with a dead rose.

How impure and crooked it seemed.

Deteriorated without the life it once had.

I kept walking with it, holding it with my right hand.

How sad it was to see a rose like that.

Where once it was bright red,

now it’s only a brown looking thing with nothing left.

I kept walking with the dead rose,

a sad rose with no thorns.

Until the path ended i...

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