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Brittle
Even the once beautiful rose
Will surely wilt
Crumbling like pastries
In your hand
The petals will harden
And the stem has knelt
The thorns become round
And the smell will waver
Color will dissipate
And will peak with no sound
Will surely wilt
Crumbling like pastries
In your hand
The petals will harden
And the stem has knelt
The thorns become round
And the smell will waver
Color will dissipate
And will peak with no sound
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