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deadly twist on red roses
Roses are red like the blood on the blade,
That glides through the air on a chilly night day.
Violets are blue like the lips of the dead,
That fall silent with words left unsaid.
Roses and violets are the bouquet that lie on the grave,
Of a very young man that could not be saved.
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in our life we all will lose some one we love and it will always be to soon for them to leave us.