A Rotting Rose
At first beautiful, overwhelming the senses
Wanting to touch, if it weren't for the harsh defenses,
Scratching away at those who touch.
Once the rot starts to begin,
The only looks it get are filled with chagrin,
For the beauty that once was,
Now is only deserving of gauze
To cover those feelings of pain
Hopefully not to stain
With blood of the hope that was never born.
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