I Swear On This Rose

I swear on this rose;
lay it on cold stone
for the earth to reclaim
and the sky to shelter.

I’m so weak and
these blues, they speak
to my withered,
soulful, messy self.

I swear on this rose;
the colours were stark
and only made sense
when the sun went down.

We are so weak;
feeble to speak
of a world that is wanting
to be itself, to be something.

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