The Rose
I stood on the vine
Growing as a beautiful rose
Then picked off one day
Placed in a vase standing all alone
Told I looked good singled out in that way
That I stood for something special
I was looked upon by many
My beauty and softness was taken
My thorns were rejected
Left with no protection
All for pleasures
By mistake I was broken down to my bud
Still placed in a vase and looked on as such
Left to fall apart down to my seed
This is where grace came in
And made a way for new life to begin

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