The rose rests upon the stone.
Its softness seeps through the hard surface,
Its color branches out into the dull background,
Its boundaries recede as it hoists the flagrant leaves,
which cut though what you thought was imperishable.
The rose is not my only being.
It is my Trojan Horse.
For I am that leaf that can destroy you.
Photo by Samar Khanna. Check out his awesome page at https://www.facebook.com/ColoursOfLazy
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