A million roses
lay on a glass floor.
Reflecting the light;
spreading her soul.
A million questions
all wandering free.
Some without answers;
just left to be.
A million people
who don't live before they die.
It's up to us;
should we pitty those who die?
A million roses
lay dead as I speak.
All on the ground;
their stems were too weak.
-k.a.
