She was a dead rose

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She was a dead rose Dried up over some days With the heat from the sun The petals once so pretty She wore no more What was left was a few Crumbles of dead skin Just enough to wrap her soul She was too fragile Even a gust of wind Or a speck of dust Would take her breath away A slightest hint of touch Was enough to break her way A grasp or a hold you try Would smash her into dust On verge of falling all apart Afraid of getting lost But yet she hold on With every bits of strength on hand Although so arid and dead Somehow she had to stand

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