* Tuesday April 16th 2013 Flower death Prose
what must it take for me to believe you?
I'm given such a gift now if only I can continue
to harvest it. Until it blooms and blossoms into a flower.
So I sit here waited for the hour
To end for this beautiful piece to be sent
I'm happy to know how this had went
How long do I have to wait for a hint
to write the best writing in a while I lent
out to a friend to please so why am I here weeping
When the world is sleeping
My heart to be kept away keeping
people from breaking it in to
I hide my pieces time to glue
them together who knew
This would be my calling
only to find myself falling
scrambling the rest of my pieces
that laid on top of me burying me alive
as I die a painful and silent death.
No one knows I'm gone.
0 comments:
Post a Comment