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The Black Rose
Growing slow and lonely,
Feeling bad and dark about myself,
I see people walk past me,
I see them frown,
They think I am an ugly weed.
Sometimes I feel the same.
I hear them mumbling,
I hear them say,
“That is one odd rose, I’ve seen today.”
I wish I was red,
Or pink,
Or white.
But I’m proud to be,
The only Black Rose,
On the Earth,
I know I’m unique,
And proud to be me…
The Black Rose
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