A Tortured Rose
Winter begs its cruel reward
despite surviving nature’s claw
And so her face, though lovely still,
did bear the season’s due.
Yet, not just time had stalked her fear
Her fragile beauty underscored
The lines of doubt that pierced her sun
had drawn a bitter heart
Though Spring could lift her heavy brow
for promises of flowers, she could not find
her garden’s path, for even still
and after all
she was a tortured Rose
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