American Roses

Reads 114
Votes 5
Parts 5

Ongoing<5 mins

Last published Tue, Jul 23, 2019

Poetry

Tagsamerica americandepression americanroses lanadelrey roses

"The smell of the American Roses, had me to knees. The color of my blood, the bloom of my heart, the smell of my dreams, the thorn of my pain, the stem of my cycle, the petles of my past. I am the American Roses, you pick, you smell, you adore, but not love. I am the American Roses."

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