Yesterday, I found a rose.
The most stunning rose I'd ever seen.
It was a sight to see.
It was different.
Not a red rose & not a white.
My rose was black.
The most beautiful black rose.
When I lay eyes on this rose I began to cry.
For I felt the struggle of this unique perennial.
Being casted out by society for being different.
Talked about because of it's color.
Not being acknowledged for it's strength.
To be picked under the classic red rose.
I felt as if this rose were me.
I continued to examine my rose & I smiled.
It gave me hope.
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