Red rose.
Blue rose.
Purple rose.
Black rose.
One is alive and well.
Another is slowly withering away.
Then there is one that is dying.
And the last one is already dead.
Radiant and beautiful, yet so short lived.
So many roses and yet you're still dead.
YOU ARE READING
Poems That Speak From The Soul
PoetryLong ago my heart was full of life and love. Now it's full of depression and despair. These poems I write are what I feel. So enjoy this craziness that I feel. ~Candy {Not part of the Marvel Kids.}
