Uhm
Poetry
👏 👏 👏 👏
:
Sylvia plath in her poppy fields
The warmth the fire the hell it was
The warmth the comfort she chose did she not?
All in the box that she had shook
The bees screamed for her ears to bleed
The bees the bees that she had bought
Plath the woman ever in sadness
The creeping comfort it had brought
To be happy was scary to be happy was a lie
To be sad was the way of life ever present