To offer a rose

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I had a tiny seed in my palm. It meant to grow like a rose in my hand. So that I may offer a gentle kiss of beauty in this cruel, sick-twisted world. But, I think I may have drowned that voice and I might have killed the seed. I have seen more cruelty than beauty… and I have shattered like glass… so broken and so tiny.

I used to want to offer a rose. If it weren’t for the pistol, the knife, the thorns…

 

 

your one and only,

bluebird

 

P.s. I have a show tomorrow… at a new venue! So, here is to counting our blessings! wish me luck!

 

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