𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑴𝒚 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆🌷 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚, 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆. 𝒀𝒆𝒕 𝑰 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.
As my eyes scanned through the graceful roses, I saw you way down beneath them, hiding in their shadows. Nestled amidst a sea of emerald foliage, your delicate petals formed a perfect quadrifoliate*.
I was delighted to see you, for I thought you must surely be a sign that I would find My Rose. So I plucked you from your earthly bed, claiming your luck as my own.
Such is the fate for all you four-leaf clovers. Your lives are cut short the instant you are found. Whether you die or not after being plucked matters not to us. We simply want your luck for our selfish reasons.
That is why you are rare, isn’t it? The three leaves that remain and live a full life warn all the newborns of your fate. None of them should dare sprout a fourth after hearing your story.
But I’m sure some will not listen as you did. I will find them! I will pluck them! And I will not care. Why, you ask?
Because you are the luckiest of all beings.
YOU ARE READING
Random Tu Writings
Ngẫu nhiênA collection of my random writings spanning across genres, themes, and moods. There's no specific story here, just the raw, unfiltered expression of a wandering mind.
