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Monday, March 26, 2007 . 4:41 AM

Roses grow
Bloom, then wither
With their vibrant colours -
They glow

-

Red rose
I reach for you on the bush
But with your thorns you prick
A cut on my finger
It starts to bleed
A beautiful thing can never be perfect
Underneath it all
There's always one thing misplaced
-

Two random poems I wrote today after the English test. The second one is my first poem without rhyming words.

Okay, okay. So maybe my sister has a point on how poems that don't rhyme can be nice and poetic. Hah.