Crimson Rose
“The Arts are vain,
Naive and ungrateful”
He stated sardonically
I remained silent,
Gazed into the abyss
Of his Jade green eyes
Deprived of joy and hope
I recalled the melancholic truth
About a boy who resembled him,
A student who dwelled in self-delusion,
Oblivious of a Nightingale's sacrificial love
For only the Arts can truly comprehend
The intricate elements of life,
Our impermanence in the fabric of times
And the essence of sincere love
Estranged from the student
Of objective reality,
All embedded in the thorns
Of a crimson rose
Zainab Hussein
May 13 2023
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