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A red rose lays in a beaten old room,
dying everyday.
A reminder of evil for a wicked beast,
forced to die for him.
Petal after petal falls from it,
leaving nothing but stem.
Its master returns,
and takes it back.
Too late for it to be saved,
lying on the frozen ground.
Deep inside it feels forgotten,
and fights to be forgiven.
Wondering what crime it committed,
to be left on the dead hard ground.
A young girl passes by, and sees the old,
torn,
rose.
Picking it up,
she takes it home.
To her old father.
The old father cries on his bead,
remembering his oldest girl.
And how she was kidnapped by a beast,
that had captured him.
She had stepped forth,
taking his place instead.
His oldest daughter,
Belle.
- by Bella11314 |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 11/08/2010 |
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