As the rose tells me of the struggles it faced, yet succeeded.
The rain dripping, the wind challenging; as she blow’s in the wind,
Her root’s, her family of flowers. never cease development;
always amounting to success, strength. She appears the strongest,
Her root system, strengthens those from “beneath”. and the pedals one day, will reach the heavens.
As a well guided team, under the commandment of the “largest” head of the rose; within the traditional themed garden.
Bringing the less strong up, with nutrition. They’re bringing the ground with the team. Nothing gets left behind. As the ground lift’s,
It spirals with the rooting system attached. The angel’s shine the sun, to lift, the mass of soil.
The ground, shall never be without its beauty. They need one-another, the humbleness of the “grounding”
needs the beauty of the rose garden – they’re as a separate society, within the mass of society.
The diamond of the eye sparkles. The sparkles tell a story, of survival, hope…
i watch the show… only to discover, the projection of sparkles, are of a “red” light; transferring to white under-the-surface; The white lighting is of an illusion, what stands below are the fires of hell, lighting a false sense of hope.
As her mind manipulates the fiery lighting i’m in awe; of the angelic eyes i’m witnessing, within my mind, i know it can not continue, it mustn’t, but for now… i’m enjoying the film.
She goes around warming peoples hearts, each heart, she sets afire a blaze that will last…. She creates examples of what it is to be human – to love, and be caring – they pass on her teaching’s.
She’s the type that will sacrifice an hour of work for a 2 min reaction of happiness- she knows what its like to have nothing, yet have everything. So selfless, it shakes the greed out of the chilliest of men.
The rock forms around the water – individuality is dead, society became duplicated – the printer, prints; never slowing to decide on its ethical stand – conformists. Living within a world we look to television for our fashion – the personality doesn’t blossom as it previously had, the pedals drift in the wind – negativity remains. strong hate stays, They’re marching in a single-fashion, their one size boots hitting the ground with vigorousness – the blue jacket stands out in the darkness. The soul, searching for different, never quite finding the spark; they see dead frowns mass produced; eyes appear sad, overworked, overused, their face is old, and hungering for another fix. Time continues and shall bring change, the junkies die, the dealer’s find a bullet – their organs, fail and their bodies shake – A pipe falls to the ground, hitting the ground with a sweet release, the shadow comes out, and sinks beneath -Danced with the devil, He overcame their mind with ease, and destroyed the GAME. One by one, they met their fate.