Look at me

Withered and forgotten

I stand

Yet the vines grow

Though they grow prickled in thorn

They yet come to

Bloom

Bloom with beauteous petals

So tenuous

Thus we must keep it

To last

It's best we leave such pulchritude

For the

Withered and forgotten

Look at me

I'm beautiful now

Just like the beauteous petals

Yet tenuous

I stand...