A rose is a rose, no?
We can dig as deep as we want, to learn,
And what we see's what we know,
I'll tell you what is really in a name,
The thing that it is for,
What it is colors the letters and words,
Enlivening them with a living soul,
The soul comes from the utterer herself,
It dies with her, also.
A thing don't exist with no eyes on it,
Nor does something unknown.
But I know you,
Your name's etched in my mind,
It will never mean anything but you,
For someone more unique I'll never find.
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