Well...
We are the Roses in the Garden,
Beauty with thorns among our leaves.
(To pick a Rose, you ask your hands to bleed.)
What is the reason for having Roses
When our blood is shed so carelessly?
(It must be for something more than vanity...)
Believe me, the Truth is we're not honest,
We're not the creatures that we seem.
(Or not as gross as we reveal...)
Willing to grow, yet vain and shallow.
Barren and wind-scattered do we seed.
(But in storm or dry land, We Will Be.)
Waiting for the Light Arisen
To flood inside the prison.
And in that time...
Kind words alone will teach us,
No bitterness will reach us.
Reason will be guided
By our new way of living.
All In Time...
But the clock is another demon
That devours Our Time In Eden,
In Our Paradise...!
Will our eyes see well beneath Us,
Flowers all Divine?
Is there still time?
When we wake to discover
In Life a precious Love,
Will that Waking become
More Heavenly...
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