(Still in progress)
Oh rose, why must you steal my life away
Although you will not let me near your fire?
All other so-called flowers in your rays
Have been reduced to greying briers
But very well, if life is forfeit, then
I take a thorn to kill this false identity
Undoing plots of narrowed vision from
Attachments to this stubborn sense of “me”
But none of this can numb away the pain
Though it can clear a space to live tonight
And I know, after seeing you again
All else will fade while you are in my sight
Such silly circumstances matter forms
And makes itself into such raging storms
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