Bruised
Oval, red
falling through space,
edges turned
beauty spurned.
Falling again, flashes of red
pure blissful dread.
Cut, tampered, distorted
rolling into a whirling mass
of red.
Lifeless, homeless
almost dry,
the petals of a rose flower
A red rose flower
that in their struggle
for survival were
bruised.....
poem by Morning Dew
Added by Poetry Lover
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