Frozen Rose
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Watching the world grasp the dying hopes of man's rekindled flames
Is like watching a chill fall morning and realizing winter has come.
The cold clutches of a cold mistress tearing at the fragile skin
And within, your soul freezes, becoming stone to the scars upon it.
Yet, with spring's warm touch that frozen stone begins to melt to reveal hopes within.
Blossoms now the black rose, revived from death by the ministrations of the maiden.
Thorns touch her not, yet every petal has its fill, never to hurt her forevermore.
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© Shattered Silver, 2008-10-17
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