The pink rose that you gave,
Has always been alive,
Never wilted from my heart,
Because it has always been you

My comfort has always been you,
Because you would always knew,
Even without any words,
You would always be there,
Even when I was not

The pink rose that you gave,
Blooms a garden of joy,  
Rushes the bees to work,
Wakes the butterflies
in my stomach

Do you remember
When we were in the pink rose fields?
You were my best view,
I want you to know,
That you will always be

Your eyes greet me with a smile,
Everytime and every while
Our eyes meet,
I can feel the love
Deep inside your brown eyes.

My love,
Thank you,
For the pink rose

As I walk around the hospital, I hear chatter and laughter.
I am constantly surrounded by friendly faces and warm smiles.
I meet their warm smile with a cheerful hello, and I grace them with the twinkle hidden within my eyes.

But deep inside, I feel hollow.
I feel empty as if my soul contains nothing.
I feel like I am just a shell of a person taking up unwarranted space.

Every day I ask myself
Does my life have a purpose?
Do I make a difference?  
Will anyone miss me if I am gone, or will they notice I'm not around?

As I come back from my  recent travels, everything seems to be the same.
Not an item is out of place besides for me.
No one has noticed the empty desk for the last four days.
No one has noticed that there is a missing friendly face.

One does not realize how insignificant they are until they come back and realize that no one has noticed their absence.
Until one realizes that everyone failed to care.
To them, one is just another working body.
One is just another body filling another simple empty desk.
Disposable, nonetheless