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The rose wept bitter tears                         when the thorn pricked hard the eager fingers that plucked her from the bush, She imagined it was her lover's.                   Most upset                   she kissed                            oozing                                     drops                                         of blood                                                   dry, and wept, not realizing the thorn's anger was directed to the  irresponsible aggressor, who has only selfish motives. The thorn meant to protect her, while trying in vein to hold back his tears that, for others looked like                                                    dew                                                       drops                                                         gleaming                                                                  in pain. Once snatched from the lap of the bush she  hardly would last a day or two, then  would be left to rot                                          turn to dust                                                  and vanish                                                      in a rowdy wind.
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Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 10:24 AM UTC
The Rose is in the dark
The rose wept bitter tears                         when the thorn pricked hard the eager fingers that plucked her from the bush, She imagined it was her lover's.                   Most upset                   she kissed                            oozing                                     drops                                         of blood                                                   dry, and wept, not realizing the thorn's anger was directed to the  irresponsible aggressor, who has only selfish motives. The thorn meant to protect her, while trying in vein to hold back his tears that, for others looked like                                                    dew                                                       drops                                                         gleaming                                                                  in pain. Once snatched from the lap of the bush she  hardly would last a day or two, then  would be left to rot                                          turn to dust                                                  and vanish                                                      in a rowdy wind.
k-balachandran
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Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 10:24 AM UTC
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