A Letter to Rose

 Roses are signified as the symbol of love but I don't see it in the way people particularly see it. Maybe I don't wish to understand the legends behind it but I empathize the being of its core misery. Every time I see flower with people, I don't see people holding the flower but ironically, flower holding the people. When I see one, it seems dead to me but still whispering something in my heart to make me feel alive somewhere, something that harshly engraves every ounce of pain dealt before last breathe. 




28th Feb

Dear Rose, 

Where do you wish to be? Is it in the hand of lovers? In the feet of God? Or, In the grave of dead?

Every time I  see you lying among there, the restlessness you hold within yourself exhausts me.

 I question myself if you really are the symbol of love and romance as people dignify and the color of you makes me feel as though something ripped you apart from depth.

 The price you pay to hold these creatures together, is it really worth it because all I see there is absurdity and hypocrisy.

It disgusts me that people don't see what you are beyond the beauty; the beauty that made your existence chaotic. 

If you're all for auspiciousness why why does it have to begin with the end of your integrity and being. 

Every time I see you, I wish you were freely wavering in the place you belong that's where I crave to see you. 

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