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His quivering hands hold back His eyes stare wide Should he take the roses Or shrivel up and hide?
The scarlet Rose of the castle garden was sullied by the cold and frostbite of the clearest Snow of that winter. Her bright red petals and thorns fell into the soft yet icy embrace of Snow. The Snow kept her Rose frozen in time.
There was a rose that stood out from all the red ravishing ones. This one bloomed too early onto the sacred ground of Mother Nature's beautiful creation,
In a rose garden With blinding billowing sunlight Some roses bloom early Some bloom late And some not at all. I sit in the court yard Of the holding place where people shrivel and die
Clock is ticking…mind is wracking…thoughts are racing…
Each thorn digging into my scalp the loudness of the blaring red roses