People are like roses,
Beautiful and soft.
Yet both have sharp edges,
That sting to the touch.
Slowly the petals
Start to fall,
Gracefully slipping
Onto the floor.
All that remains
Of what used to be great,
Is now just a thorn bush,
With an everlasting ache.
ESTÀS LLEGINT
The Stories of an Immortal
AventuraRandom short stories about different adventures in a variety of places, times and situations, from the perspective of a time travelling immortal.
