This is the second part of my latest post with the title: "Graffiti and Roses".
All the images are AI generated and digitally modified by me.
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A brick wall sighs, a canvas grey and worn,
Where wild strokes bloom before the coming morn.
A riot of colour, a tagger's bold decree,
A language whispered for the world to see.
Sharp angles clash, a vibrant, hurried hand,
Across the mortar, stories unplanned.
But look again, where concrete meets the sun,
A tender shoot, its fragile life begun.
A thorny stem, unfurling slow and deep,
A promise held while shadowed figures sleep.
And then, a bud, a blush of velvet red,
A silent poem where bold words are said.
The harsh lines soften as the petals gleam,
A fragile beauty in a waking dream.
The spray paint's edge, the hurried, frantic art,
Now frames the grace that tears the wall apart.
A crimson heart against the urban stain,
A whisper soft where shouts had held their reign.
Perhaps the artist, in a fleeting pause,
Observed the reaching for life's gentle cause.
Perhaps the contrast struck a chord within,
The strength of softness, where new hopes begin.
For in that pairing, stark and yet so true,
Graffiti's grit, and roses breaking through.
A testament, in hues both rough and fine,
To beauty found where shadows intertwine.
A fleeting message on a weathered face,
Embraced by elegance, by time and space.
Graffiti fades, its bold pronouncements cease,
But still the rose unfolds, a fragile peace.
🧱🔫🌹🧱🔫🌹🧱🔫🌹🧱🔫🌹🧱🔫🌹🧱🔫🌹🧱🔫🌹🧱🔫🌹🧱🔫🌹🧱🔫🌹🧱🔫🌹🧱🔫🌹🧱🔫🌹🧱🔫🌹
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