The roses were about to bloom, but one in particular stood out. Her pretty petals, starting to blossom....
Her petals, untouched, such a bright shade of red.... so pure and so beautiful....
She was the chosen one, she stood out from the rest....
She was spotted for her beauty and picked.....
She was cut and in pain... some of her leaves fell off, her source of life removed.....
She was placed in a vase with water, and striving too hold on to her life...
every day she grew more weak.... and slowly started to wither....
her leaves and thorns fell off one by one.... leaving her more vulnerable with every passing day.... she wasn't so beautiful to the eye anymore, even though deep inside she still was.... but they couldn't see the beauty anymore.....
today was her last day, she was bare, dry and withered..... one last time she was picked, but this time it wasn't for her beauty, but instead her time to go......
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