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A rose standing alone,
Its petals are wilting,
as its death grows near,
as a baby sheds a tear.
How can the rose,
Stand so tall?
When the future grows near,
With no hope at all.
This obsessed beauty,
Is all that I hold.
As the end grows near,
And couples grow old.
Is this all I was,
A dying, wilting rose?
Saying sorry might be the hardest part,
But being too late is a broken heart.
"Until death do us apart,"
As the vows are said.
Forgotten is the wilting rose
dying and alone, in the hospital bed.
As the end draws near,
Death whispering in your ear,
Blackness' kiss,
Is the wilting rose's wish...
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