Life is a bed of roses
when e flowers of facade fall off n wither
e thorns below r exposed
yet nb will begrudge e roses
4 every rose u get lotsa thorns follows
e pain of the thorns
only u urself will understand
4every1 hav deir own beds of thorns to sleep over
if hope fertilizes e soil
water e bed wif ur hopes
such tt e petals will cushion ur fall
bearing in mind tt no matter how much dreams u hav
e flowers will still wilt 1 day
n e pain will resume
---Lia Leow