Everyone calls her the most beautiful rose in the world. She is so warm and fresh that she amazed me throughout my youth.
I once coveted her tenderness and spent time with her day and night, thinking that the roses would always bloom and we could embrace each other year after year. We have survived all the criticism and difficulties, but we have not been able to survive the vagaries of fate.
My roses didn't wait until spring to bloom and withered early in the winter.
From then on, there was no longer that bright and enthusiastic girl in the world, leaving me alone to guard the room full of warmth and fragmented memories. The wind blows through the flowers and the rain hits the branches. Every drop of rain is the tears of the fallen roses.
It turns out that the most painful love is never misunderstanding and separation. It is that I will be safe for the rest of my life, but I will never see my rose again.
Purpose: Abuse
