How can something that made me feel like I could take on the world, leave me with the world on my shoulders? If this life is like a rose, it's not its thorns I fear, but the petals that adorn it. Its beauty as quick to capture you as it is to leave you.
They wilt and die, only to litter the room they once decorated. Their falling petals akin to pieces of our shattered dreams.
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You probably disagree, have your say. Not that I'll give a **** ;-)