Sunday, January 30, 2011

And the enigma of this world still torments me...

It’s at night when the stars knit sense into the frayed strands of my thoughts...

"What are you, my dear bloom? For, though you resemble the silhouette of the rose, your stem runs as smoothly as the cool water beneath your roots."

"I am but a weed, sister to the daisy, as hollow as the reeds that sway in the wind. My empty core lacks the nourishment to coax even the slightest thorn. I will last but a single week in this world, for my beauty has betrayed me."

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