A fresh flower represents new love.
It blooms every day.
Why isn't it dying or shrinking?
I wish everything was genuine.
Wonderful things come and go.
The world does not appear to be real.
The moon brightens even the darkest of nights.
The stars meet the moon midway.
Life becomes like a lemon.
Genuine people and trust have become rare!
Does love even exist?
It looks like a dead rose.
Only the pride-less succeed!
The rest succumb to it; dead blooms are everywhere.
Survivalists end up celebrating with their joyful families.
What side are you on? a fresh flower or a dried rose.
Fresh flowers bloom every day, just like unconditional love.
About the Creator
Gloria Penelope
Every creative piece is just me telling a story. Enjoy my creative writing!
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Nice work
Very well written. Keep up the good work!
Top insight
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
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Comments (4)
Im a dried rose hehehehhehe. Loved your poem!
Nice.
A nice fresh story, Gloria! Loved it.
and just like the rose bush, when one blossom dies, another opens.