A drop of me creates life. Harmful to you, yet I still think that you bring skies. A trim from your hands made me grow. You are the sun and glow. But you started to bring skies to the other flowers you grew fond of.
YOU ARE READING
She Hates The Other Flower
PoetryFlowers born differently. Invaded by thorns, close to wither. Can't feel the pain, indication of too much weather.
