#butterflys.repose_0403
coarse flume
You were always a rose.
Who appeared like a daisy.
I won’t rid the things that I’ve said because it’s still and will always be true.
My words will always stay with you.
You were poking me with your thorns unknowingly I think.
I learned to love the pricks
began taking the blood as a sign of faith
I hoped and I hoped and I hoped.
Now I’m to be at the eyes of dirt
wanting to be buried in a grave.
Now I know I’ve hoped for nothing…
Saw only what I wanted to be there.
Yet still I couldn’t be mad at a flower
for what isn’t their fault.
Still I couldn’t be mad at a flower for having more inside them than petals.
So I’ll wither aways dear flower
leave you if you please
and wish you a happy life full of a love you deserve.