A precious rose I hold in my hand
Yet deadly thorns that bleed me to land
Kept alive so long as served as a band
Lest withered horns like be planted in sand
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TERRA INCOGNITA
PoetryNo way ever so undoing an unbreakable wall conspiratorially built by those shattered themselves.
TWENTY-SIX
A precious rose I hold in my hand
Yet deadly thorns that bleed me to land
Kept alive so long as served as a band
Lest withered horns like be planted in sand