Rose

Rose, a lively rose.

My life is like a red rose,

Each petal is a special part,

Making up a picture.

Every petal that falls is something that cannot be forgoten.

Every few years a petal is lost.

Soon the rose will be bare,

No petals to show its beauty.

It's stem is brown.

It's nectar dry.

This rose shall die.

No one will forget these petals,

That have gone black and become brittle.

One day another rose will bloom,

Till then I am just a rose.

Rose, a dark dead rose.

This poem is about: 
Me

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