Have you seen the withered rose lying on a dusty road
Crushed by million feets n their unsympathetic abrasive heat
A rose which could bring a smile while a stroll in the aisle
Which could leave its essence every time you sensed its fragrance
Lying in blood, mashed and bruised in the mud
Does anyone care for the one that was once there
For its lost beauty, lost in nurturing a million of our prayers
Trampled by own loved ones, breathing its last breath
wont anyone care..wont anyone have any regrets?
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