She's weary and her day's are all lows. <br />Friends become foes. <br />She can no longer see her toes. <br />Over the years her body has built plumpness, not merely close to obese. <br /> <br />Hu-rah Hu-rah! They yell. <br />The weary lady is dead. <br />No one in the town knew her. <br />But all of them gathered around, what used to be a perfect black box. Now its molded and the colors have changed. layer by layer. <br />Strip by Strip. <br /> <br />Used to be petite and slender. Vivacious and adored. <br />Not they just scorn. <br />She is now torn. <br />What Caused this? <br />Why is this? <br />Why the questions...she is now gone. <br /> <br />Tears, tears. <br />Why fear? Did they fear her because of jealousy? <br />Or was she to much of a burden to the town? <br />Who knows, we shall never know. <br />What really happened to Ol' Rose. <br /> <br />The house the was pure white, is now smelly and old. <br />You can no longer tell its true color. <br /> <br />She was weary and days were just lows. <br />No friends, just foes. <br />Ol' Rose why did you have to go. <br />They celebrate your death. <br />But they never knew you. <br />Your black box has been stripped. <br />Your home no longer exists. <br />Old Rose, poor Ol' Rose. <br />Rest peacefully. <br /> <br />Hu-rah, Hu-rah! ! <br />let the soldiers celebrate. <br />Tears, tears will fade away. <br />But you will always be remembered.<br /><br />Sapphire moore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ol-roses-death/
