Rosey colored cheeks,
stepping through life,
thorns on the thy stem,
the petals a reflection of his true spirit.
A common oracle of apollo,
but there's so much more to follow,
he's a beautiful daumier that's painted,
from the bourgeoisie that's untainted.
Bathed in rebeldom,
the principality of his princedom,
sovereign to his own beliefs,
as contumacious angels facient thy relief.
As the blossom bloomed and perfume danced,
the rose lived its own life, nothing to chance,
as the petals fade and then fall away,
memories will endure, until seen another day!
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