I could see that no one was there.
The village was empty except for one stare.
It was the girl with the windswept hair.
Acting as if she didn't have a care.
She looked at me and curled a grin.
She took a hand and touched my chin.
I knew there was something I wanted to pin.
If only it wasn't such a great sin.
It was the last rose in all of Tyvale.
The locust plague had torn like a whale.
Chewing everything to dust and to dale.
Leaving only the crying to no avail.
But I picked it
I plucked it
I carried it
I brought it
To the last girl standing
The only one remaining
The prettiest in calling
The one I go dreaming
The last beautiful rose for the last beautiful girl.
It seemed only fair.
A sin worth bearing.
The last bit of beauty.
Before the darkness falls.
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