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All roses start white

But love disfigures them

deep in the night

Hearts break on the stem

Broken hearts pours love

The lost lover drips red

Say goodby to the dove

White is stained when tread

Time moves onward

Tears will mend

Sigh and look skyward

There is no end

Soon beauty is seen

the disfigured are loved

Scares go unseen

And none are unloved

A rose is picked

It remains discolored

Until a thorn is pricked

another rose gets its color

This poem is about: 
Our world


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