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by Sammie Mar 17, 2025 category : Sadness, depression / grieving, loss
One cornered, velvet rose emitting simple perfumes to a hand that picked it These thorns could sting your hand bled, you say but you crushed a rose Each rose creates herself you pick her and believe her beauty’s your creation At each cycle's end, I see for every rose you picked one you will crush, again But she will perfume nonetheless