Roses are red, may be…maybe not
You have yellow, white and pink a lot,
A flower blooms, wilts and decomposes
While its fragrance in essence I possess.
Love is love, may be … maybe not
It’s infatuation, obsession, lust a lot
Young love flourishes then dies old
My precious heart for pennies sold.
Faith is faith, may be … maybe not
Superstitious belief, blind trust a lot,
Cosmos was cast before mortal creed
Spawning nations, races and greed.
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