The Rose
My rose of life
Has begun to wilt
Because my world
Has begun to tilt
As the end
Gets closer still
I must do things
Against my will
My pace is fast
I must slow down
Unless I want
To look like a clown
As the end
Gets so near
Down my face
Rolls a single tear
That tear is for
The love that's lost
When roses die
Because of frost
That frost is hate
And everywhere
It doesn't hurt everyone
And that's not fair
The roses are people
Both young and old
I tell you this
Because it must be told
I shall die
Because of hate
This point with you
I shall not debate
Good bye to the roses
For I must leave
So no one else
Shall have to grieve
This poem is dedicated to the memory of Anne Frank. May her story never die.
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