I can't tell if my world is real or fake
I'm waiting for this facade to just break
Something somewhere went wrong, a mistake
I always hope I'm wrong for my sake
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But violets are purple
And bluebells are blue
Just like my lips
As I take one last look at you
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Oh, the flowers are dead
I am too
My name is Flowers
But what's it to you
The petals are wilted
Just like my heart
I'm one scratched out
Work of art
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I love you this, I love you that
I know it's fake, or at least just a mind manipulation technique
But you should know that there's a reason that I never say it back
You always lie and gaslight me
Tell me I'm hopeless and I'm weak
And while I know it might be true
It's not up to you
YOU ARE READING
ᗩᑭᑭᗩᖇITIOᑎ, ᵃ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ
Randomap·pa·ri·tion /ˌapəˈriSH(ə)n/ (noun) a ghost or ghostlike image of a person. A collection of songs by Flowers. A lot of them are sad and/or incomplete. A chunk of them may be featured in an album I'm making called 'a look into the mind of...
