The Withered Pink Roses
A poem about the three consequences of listening to fear. Regret, broken dreams and a constant daily worry.

I hold lost beauty my hand,
three pink roses,
all the colour is lost,
one at a time they fall apart into pieces.
I hold lost beauty my hand,
three pink roses,
all the colour is lost,
one at a time they fall apart into pieces.
Stories by Dan J
33 year old writer/artist. I write poetry and i have written 3 books. One of them is on sale on Amazon and is about leadership. I also create beautiful artwork.