We are the roses, the victims of torture. We are picked for our beauty by those who are pickers. They take us from our safety and kill us slowly, just for their entertainment. We are weak, we are frail and have only thorns to protect us from the pickers. We are the victims of bullying and the bullies are the pickers.
My friend Naomi Topping help me write this one.
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Short Stories of my life
RandomPoems about how And what I'm feeling do to my current situation.
