The white rose was now splatterd with
tiny crimson dots.
The stem of the rose was burried deep inside
her heart,
Tiny spikes of the rose were poink out.
Her heart wasn't blooming anymore,
It was dying.
Unlike her heart, the rose was blooming,
Soaking up the crimson liquid.
The once white rose, was now a shade of deep red.
Yes, she was dying, but the rose was blooming.
This is the circle of life.
Once a life is taken, another one start blooming.
Every living creature has a part in the circle of life.
From plants to bugs to animals to humans.
Just like carnivores will become grass for the herbivores,
Humans will become flowers,
Flowers for others to pick.
Sometimes their soul will reincarnate,
In another shape or form.
The souls of those who don't reincarnate,
Will wander the world.
Exploring, observing, and protecting those who they once loved so dearly.
They'll be waiting for their next life to come.
