Among autumn leaves and winter’s breeze shines luster in a garden froze. A perfect form without needs, stands a beautiful, tin foil rose. When all around the garden aged whose frailty never shows. For what is time for whom was swaged eternal, tin foil rose? Without flaw, the burnished rebel; barish.
With enduring mettle amidst graveyard appose, betwixt the list of wilting pedals; cannot perish. Oh lucky, tin foil rose. And when in the spring, while the others appease you needn’t have worries nor woes. for the eager things will do as they please Unless, you’re a tin foil rose As fragrant dust breeds frenzied affection coupled from sweetened love arose What you can’t have through faux perfection Rejected, tin foil rose. They live and die; their existence fleeting as quickly as they grow. And though they may rot, you were never living Wistful, tin foil rose. Envy bores as resentment soars through imitation stems your throes. The illusions shatter and break the shores for the deluded, tin foil rose. A fate so earned for your misgivings. For genuine beauty you try to impose. It is that for which you’re truly missing. Oh lonely, tin foil rose. Comments are closed.
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Editorial Staff
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