my father used to plant flowers
in our front garden
but they would die, wither
he forgot to water them and
they didn't get enough sun
instead of watering them more often
or replanting them, he let them wither
and bought new ones,
over and over again
we had new plants every month
pretty flowers, but too weak to survivethat's how i feel sometimes.
instead of taking care of me,
they let me wither
i get no water, no sun,
but am replaced when i am
no longer green enough,pretty enough
[09|23]
YOU ARE READING
this is my closing point | poetry ✓
Poetry[cause this place doesn't feel like home anymore.] continuation of the poetry collections "darkness in between" and "Der Mond sieht, wenn ich wein'" (can be read independently) the beautiful cover is made by @stillregen <3