A Rose. - Poem by Miranda Stoltz
Made by nature.
Not by man.
I hold in my hand.
Though be warned.
For on this stem, it guards its beauty.
Something may prick your hand.
Although this rose may not be perfect.
It's imperfections make it whole.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You