The roses are kept
In jars and in vases
The bush was picked clean
By hands so invasive
And now they’re condemned
To wither and die
So someone can show
Their love is no lie
A Poetic Dive into the Creative Unconscious
The roses are kept
In jars and in vases
The bush was picked clean
By hands so invasive
And now they’re condemned
To wither and die
So someone can show
Their love is no lie