Rosalind the Rose
Rosalind the Rose depression stories
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ivoryannalise
ivoryannaliseLife beckons - remember to heed it.
Autoplay OFF  •  a month ago
This poem is inspired by a conversation I had with my sister. I compared her willingness to love the world and the destruction it had caused her to a rose bush, and this poem took root in my mind. Enjoy. <3

Rosalind the Rose

She was a freshly bloomed rose,

Beautiful and budding,

Picturesque without a blemish of fear or hatred.

Her petals stood boldly against an azure sky,

Radiating pure, undulating love and kindness.

She had barely blossomed,

This rose so tender, so young.

But despite her youth, her scent traveled far,

Carrying benevolence to all who needed it.

However, like all beautiful flowers, someone destructive came along,

Plucking the young rose from her roots.

To watch her wither among a vase of plastic flowers,

So unlike her natural beauty and imperfections.

They mocked her grace and misplaced hope,

Taunting her silly little petals, pale with each small blemish.

The words piled high, her leaves drooping with each ill phrase,

Until she had no choice but to wrap those imperfect petals around herself,

Blocking the world from her kind heart and precious gaze.

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