I am the eighth rose girl, the forgotten gray rose.
Why, why, why, as long as I, as long as I can't get my father's love. . . Father loves me, right? He obviously created me. I want love! . . . But can I, the forgotten me, do this?
Who is that? Father? Why are you reaching out to me? Do you want to accept me? Is it really possible? I stretched it out, it was so warm. . .