My heart is a withered rose. Amidst the ashen petals, lies remorse. Every time, I try to rise, I fail. I can't rise like a Phoenix from my own ash. I question myself and I answer that too. I decide to rise from between the ashes. Between the withered petals, my life blooms. It's painted, picturesque, and painted in hues. A withered rose is a new beginning out of an old ending. For my life blooms, between all those withered roses. Hello Resties! ❤️ ** 🤩🤩 A NEW TASK. GET A CHANCE TO BAG FEEDBACKS AND A FEATURE. 🤩🤩 ** Today on the occassion of No Rhyme Day, we have brought to you a new task. Everyone attempting this task shall be given feedbacks, and exceptional ones shall be featured! 🤩 What's the task?
