Sadness smells like
a withered rose,
a mere shadow of its former glory.
Left in solitude,
its parched petals drooping
in the sun,
past its prime.
Left to fend for itself,
cast at the mercy of fate,
till it disintegrates &
falls to earth as dust.
Sadness smells like
a withered rose,
pathetic & lonely.

© 300roses