rosas-pandan
Have you ever wondered why snow is white?
Has it ever crossed your mind that she might have a story now lost? Colours drained as the sands of time continuously poured?
Have you ever wondered whether she was once a rose, pure in hues of ivory-a docile lamb-forced to tread the horrors of uncertainties?
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If happiness is of crimson-coloured glass, was it as fragile as the clear ones?
Stained in the colours of vitality and passion, a little prince pondered on such a thought, thinking, "Could it withstand the fascinations that real life has in its palms?"
If the colour of innocence was white, why did such a prince, small and young, have to endure ordeals before the crown was upon his head?