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Left lying forgotten on the floor With the destructive power The memory Of what it once was And the dreams Of what it would soon become The painful desolation Of being misplaced Lost within the battles And the teardrops That caused its worthlessness Not fully able to understand How it could so quickly wither And once again be abandoned By the hopelessness Of another lost love Searching for a reason The knowledge of painful suffering So many times considered So few times concluded The flooding memories Of a thousand sleepless nights Spent hoping, wishing, dreaming To be beautiful once again To be loved and treasured always Just like before Longing so desperately For a fragile second chance A lifetime in the making A million times rehearsed So many times forgotten Yet not all hope is gone For the rose knows its own beauty Its self-respect, its self-worth And this is far more powerful Than any misplaced memory So here lies its petals Its inner beauty Will once again blossom The forgotten, desolate rose Will climb strong and free Forever. . . |