The Rose

Inside every person is a rose
Ensconced on a shelf covered in glass
And every day the soul stops to gaze at it
To watch the petals as they fall one by one

Every day the soul gazing at that rose asks the same question
Am I a beast or a man?
Am I cruel and heartless or kind and full of love?
And every day that soul seeks a mirror they cannot find

I gaze at my own rose as the petals fall and wonder who I am
And I decide to ignore the rose with its ominous petals
I am not a beast, nor a rose covered in glass
I am only myself

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