Lost Rose

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We start as seeds in a flower bed


Ready to flourish.


Our excitement to be red


And seen. Not grow out of currish.


 


The sun embraces our growth.


Not noticing our thorns


And willing to give us clothe


But never showing us where we were born.


 


By now we long to bloom,


Into what we’ve heard is resplendent.


Nescience of our doom.


And now, my dream is transcendent.


 


Aphids of the world gnaw at me


Secreting skepticism while,


My petals quake to flee.


I can’t, I’m not made of guile.


 


Hence, why I remain


Always in the same maw.


Waiting for time to reign


But the common withdrawal.


 


Quickly I wilt.


Masses don’t fertilize.


My last petal receives a jilt


And then roses realize.


 


By Cameo Miller

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