Pain,

Sadness,

Despair,

These are the things that fill my life now.

There was a time when I was happy,

But those days are long gone.



I see a beautiful rose, just blooming,

The petals are soft,

Voluptuous,

They speak to me.



Slowly, death comes to the rose,

The petals wither,

They lose their color,

Darkness falls.



The stem gives out underneath,

And the heavy bloom droops,

The weight of the dead flower

Is too much for the fragile stem to handle.



Seeing this,

The Gardener cuts the dead bloom from the vital plant.

It falls to the ground,

Not a sound,

It lays there in the dirt,

Decomposing.



The Rain falls on it,

Beating it with heavy drops of water,

It loses its shape,

Petals fall off,

The bloom falls apart.



It is stepped on,

Broken,

Utterly destroyed,

And absorbed into the unmerciful soil beneath.

There is no hope for this once beautiful rose.