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Roses

crumble in their hands
stumble like a sparrow
upon the gusting winds of winter
humbled by the crows that eat the roses

crumble where you stand
stumble into traps set by the heart
humble in the the vision of a man
who tore the roses

crumble your own ambition
stumble upon the stones of your deformities
humble in the sight
of broken roses

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  • fiona8 silver member
    October 28

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    I read it, then read each line that began with the same word. A very good poem.