The rose knows it is going to die.. That doesn't stop it from being a rose. It doesn't stop giving out it's fragrance.. When it's petals start blackening and curling.. It doesn't give up blooming. A rose was born to be a rose. It doesn't cry about it's thorns. It doesn't lament it's fragrance.. It curls up every night And salutes the sun every morning.. It lives it's course It's colours fade.. The rose does best by being a rose. A bud, a bloom, and eventually fading.