As i pass by the stray of roses
pink, lavendar, yellow, orange
i remember two vivid scenes
the first is my gramma hunched on her knees
and the other is the contempt
for the effect of beauty on my own.
i wonder how its like to never give
a thought towards the difficulty
of tricking one's eye and forging one's heart.
Power be to the pretty who share their secret onto me.
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