O the sweet decomposition of a rose,
It\'s much like our love. Sweet at first,
Vibrant and passionate red, but piece by piece,
Leaf by leaf fall, revealing the thorns.
The passion starts to fade and what is left is the
remnants. Much like a distant memory,
But a memory of you, good or bad, is one nonetheless.
For every minute without you, a pedal falls, and surely,
like the rose, i will die too.