winkybear Posted January 14, 2005 Share Posted January 14, 2005 The withered rose A withered rose my heart shall be, With the thorns but without the beauty, The red blooming colour once my life, What is left; a shameful sight. What seemed afar seemed so near, She was standing there everything was clear, The weather turned dark as she came close, Oh what fate, but I am the withered rose. The withered rose I want it to die! To have the colour of red once again occupy, Id rather make this painful sacrifice, Than becoming a sore to the eyes. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
yeawutever Posted June 26, 2006 Share Posted June 26, 2006 Very nice and true indeed, physical beauty vanishes too quickly, which is sad!!!!!!!! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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