It is the spring
All the flowers are blooming
All but one that is
A small rose bud
Bursting to open
But the other
Won’t let it
They push it away
So no one will see
The little rose bud
Is all by itself
The wind ravaged
The rose bud
Because no one
Cared about it
The little rose bud
Finally popped open
To find all the others
Were gone
They had been picked
The little rose
Started to wither in pain
It never got to see
What it was like to be a rose

 
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