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Literature Text
There is a Black rose
Amidst a bunch of colourful flowers
They all bloom together
In a small garden in town
The Black rose empathises others pain
Spends time with the less privileged flowers
Always goes out of its way
To care for the broken ones
Some matured flowers
Cared for the Black rose
But, they have their own selves
To look after.
The Black rose stands alone
When it is hurt
The other flowers are busy
When the Black rose is in need
But, none is left unforgiven
The Black rose continues to help
Though others betray it
The Black rose cares with pleasure!
It still wonders why
It stands alone
To be one of its kind
Even in pain, it feels proud.
Amidst a bunch of colourful flowers
They all bloom together
In a small garden in town
The Black rose empathises others pain
Spends time with the less privileged flowers
Always goes out of its way
To care for the broken ones
Some matured flowers
Cared for the Black rose
But, they have their own selves
To look after.
The Black rose stands alone
When it is hurt
The other flowers are busy
When the Black rose is in need
But, none is left unforgiven
The Black rose continues to help
Though others betray it
The Black rose cares with pleasure!
It still wonders why
It stands alone
To be one of its kind
Even in pain, it feels proud.
Literature
Beautiful...
I didn't really like it when she cried.
I just loved the way it made her look.
Her eyes were always vibrant.
But, God—God, when she cried…they sparkled.
Her cheeks would turn that perfect plum, that dangerous shade of blue-crimson.
She would push her hair out of her face: in futility.
It would fall back, frazzled, crazed.
Beautiful.
I would watch her, in her less-than-silent agony,
My eyes: absorbed, ablaze. Like a hawk.
Like a vulture.
She was so real.
So vulnerable, the conceptual putty in my hands.
Passionate, with her lips pushed lightly forward.
Almost in a kiss…
Part of me wanted to be that gleam at the tip of her eyel
Literature
Suicide Note
Sometimes as I'm sitting here
And the tears run unchecked down my face
and my thoughts run through, my head is racing
and the things I think about ring too true
And sometimes as I'm watching stars
Twinkle in the sky I wonder why
I'm still sitting here, why I'm still alive
Wouldn't it be somethin' else to die
Would anyone care enough to cry
Am I even brave enough to try
and I just sit here thinking to myself
And that razor is so inviting
and that ledge is so warm
I can see myself happy and suning
on the 'night's plutonian shore'
Don't think there's somethin' wrong with me!
Don't tell me I need help
You don't understand me
You
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Does the colour really matter?
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Comments59
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Not black...!!! Its wheatish...