There she she sits, this lonely rose. softly being tugged. She's been cut, unthorned and dropped. It's mistaken that this was the road she chose. Her beauty asks for nothing but to be viewed, yet the sight has been skewed.
This lonely rose, sits as she's been placed.Only the wind has pushed her, her delicate body being dragged but its just the same as she's been forgotten. over or under the bridge, torn petals, arguments filled and nothing settles. Dropped by rage and stomp in disdain no one can find her as she's flown away
She has but minutes to shine for her youth is gently gone,The withering sun and nostalgic thoughts of being wanted have sucked her to her end, death an unbreakable bond. "this is the end," hissed the wind, being dragged and a small painful disfiguration ripped through her soul.
There sits this lonely rose, No one knows her only hopes: To be picked up, placed in water and cared for.
Life is short but to her lovely sight is as to give life to a empty loveless room.
This sad rose, lays with all the spoken words, marinated and nothing said. For she lays forgotten; she never existed. She was never seen.
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