Life.. is a stalk of rose.. for when it comes into being, is innocent and undaunting, with no threat concealed in its shadow. However, when it treads down the path of maturity, its thorns reveal and taunt its bearer, but with meticulous handling, it will eventually be overcome with no harm done. Under optimum conditions, it will be at its peak and bloom crimson petals successfully in its appreciation. Yet exposed to gusts of strong wind and torrential rain, its stronghold will be crippled, which leads to the withering of its brightly coloured flower and unsuccessful attempts to rebloom. However, in rare cases, it may, if it were to have the will. Or... perhaps not.