flowers
wouldn't it be nice
if we bloomed
in my dry patch of grass
so that you'd understand
and wouldn't it be nice
if we turned to the sun
and weren't overfed
by "the real world"
and wouldn't it be nice
if you were out of mind
left me with the rose
and wouldn't it be nice
if my elegant rose
was not an acre away
fat mouth
you have
too many
of my words
coming out
of your
fat mouth
retelling
repeating
until i try
to force
them back
down, but
now it's
on my hands
too
rise
hidden behind
the tears is
planning
rationing
to kill the
motherhood
to finally get
what the girl
wants
YOU ARE READING
poetry
Şiirpoetry with no rhyme or rain most of these r rlly old and embarrassing but im keeping them for the lore
