The white rose
In the storm
Stands the white rose
tumultuous waves
of destruction abound her
Yet tall is the white rose
strong in the face
Of the sensed doom around her
And she does not bow down
Pure is the white rose
In the compost earth
growing eternal strength
in the nights that so hurt
I see not the white rose
She is so far away
But I long to protect her
But only the words
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