Once there is a flower,
one of life's most beautiful things,
Broken into shards,
but let me tell you the story,
Of the broken flower.
The Flower,
A majestic rose,
The color of the Royal Maroon,
Stained by it's wonderful grace.
It blooms in the presence of it's love,
Closes when it is dry,
The Holy White
The only rival,
But what need is there,
When it has eyes for another.
What object has the majestic rose's love,
But 'It' has eyes for one,
The Holy White it is not,
But the rose itself,
Their path crosses in the stream of life,
But rest assured,
Their paths are blocked,
Whither did the rose slowly,
Not in the presence of 'it',
Holy White,
"You too have the same fate as I,"
But the answer was no,
Holy White had been rejected,
Fearful it was not,
Holy White, Holy White,
Thy ways are like blossoms of cherry
Sweet but sour.
And so whither did the rose,
The majestic beauty to all,
Whither, whither my red rose,
Thy time shall come again.
- This is a random story I made up. This is not a simply poem or some retarded essay. It is a story such as "Once upon a time, there was a dog named Rover, and the story is now over."
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