Call the name that won’t do the same in your wake.
For I cannot speak with the thorns in my throat.
Become the rose I never could and bloom in my _death_.
Take the red in my heart to color your petals.
_Prosper in my broken promises._
Don’t wilt my sweet rose, everything will be alright.
You will make it another day,
_.- .-.. --- -. . / .- --. .- .. -. .-.-.-_
Oct 24, 2025
Oct 24, 2025 at 10:54 PM UTC
Call the name that won’t do the same in your wake.
For I cannot speak with the thorns in my throat.
Become the rose I never could and bloom in my _death_.
Take the red in my heart to color your petals.
_Prosper in my broken promises._
Don’t wilt my sweet rose, everything will be alright.
You will make it another day,
_.- .-.. --- -. . / .- --. .- .. -. .-.-.-_
