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A Rose In Concrete
The cracked cement houses a broken rose,
Which withers away the more it grows,
That right there is an interesting thought,
It refuses to flourish and would rather rot,
It's almost as if it refuses to shine,
Too afraid to unfold, and prefers to decline,
Why can't the rose simply stand up straight?
Take back its beauty and avoid this fate?
It's like it's afraid to stand out in the gray,
Ready to turn dark and wither away,
So why does the rose simply want to die?
Deny its own beauty and live a lie?
The crack's gotten bigger, allowing it life,
But rather the rose refuses such strife,
It would rather blend in and fade into black,
Before standing up to take its life back,
So what ever happened to that rose in concrete?
It withered away, and accepted defeat
Loving's Far Too Hard
I can't fight this feeling,
And I don't know why,
It hurts so much not knowing,
But even more now when I try,
It sickens me to suffer,
Hiding from the pain,
It'll cost me even more now,
Than I ever really gain,
My mind has left me stranded,
Led on by my heart,
They always said to follow it,
But never where to start,
What if my heart lost its way?
What if its too gone to save?
I should be weary of where my heart leads me,
Because it could be to my grave,
And if I try to lock it up now,
Any chance of hope is lost,
But like I said before,
The risk's not worth the cost,
But with that all in mind now,
The answer should be clear,
But the glass shows too many answers,
Within this broken mirror,
This sad shattered reflection,
Repeated blankly in every shard,
Someone should have told me,
That loving's just too hard
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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