Note: Wrote this after my grandfather passed away. I based it on the rose from his funeral. They're both the same poem but with different context. Read both and you'll understand.
Life as a rose
You were planted to decorate the world.
Your beauty and your color so very strong.
Giving everyone a smile with your warm colors.
Until one day you are cut from your root.
You are placed in a lonesome room,
Sitting in that crystal vase,
Living off water and nothing more.
Wishing to be free again.
As you sit in that home,
You wish to watch other flowers blossom.
As you're slowly withering,
The days seem to get darker.
Until one day the water helps no longer.
Your time has come.
You were admired by those who passed by you,
And we were all lucky to witness your true colors.
No other flower would blossom the way you did.
Everyone who noticed you,
Thought that you were beautiful.
Even though your flower is withered,
Your leaves will live on.
You will be missed by many,
But remembered forever.
You were born to live your life.
Your charm and your personality so very strong.
Giving everyone a smile with your warm heart.
Until one day you learn your life is cut short.
You are placed in a lonesome room,
Laying in that white bed,
Living off machines and nothing more.
Wishing to be free again.
As you lay in that hospital,
You wish to watch your family grow.
As you're slowly dying,
The days seem to get sadder.
Until one day the machines help no longer.
Your time has come.
You were cherished by those who loved you,
And we were all lucky to be loved by your warm heart.
No other person will love the way you did.
Everyone who loved you,
Thought that you were amazing.
Even though your body is diseased,
Your soul will live on.
You will be missed by many,
But remembered forever.
By 
