She's so fragile, so helpless,
so completely without blame.
Such a small, delicate flower,
a Rose, befitting her name.
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Today, I held her as she cried,
her tears tear me apart.
I really want to comfort her
from the bottom of my heart.
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Her memory began to fail,
imagination went wild,
the simplest chore became a task,
she's once more a little child.
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Oh! I long to protect her,
shield her from each little pain.
She never had much out of life.
God! Please make her whole again!
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Life often plays funny tricks,
turns you one way then another.
This trick isn't ha ha funny.
The daughter has become the mother.
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