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Oct 2020
She looks around her and sees the faces.
They remind her of a rose,
thorny and wild.
They grow untamed,
their scent so sweet and mild.
She looks around her and sees the blood.
She sees the petals fall to the mud.
The roses are dead,
they grow no more.
She looks around her, but sees no faces.
Written by
Hope Elyse
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