➸ 𝘽𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝘽𝙤𝙪𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙩 (𝙋𝙤𝙚𝙢 𝘽𝙤𝙤𝙠) ✔

Dandelions

I was born in a garden of sinners,

Surrounded by eyes that pry into my cage,

They serve me a plate of ashes for my dinner,

Their sympathy fills my void with rage.

My bones were as detached as the tracks of a train,

Their voices are acid to my brain.

In my hand, I hold an umbrella,

Shading a single dandelion from the crimson rain,

Screaming my agony in acapella.

There he goes, Mr Red Flag Dressed in Green.

Into the shadows, wishing not to be seen.

At that moment, his eyes met mine,

With frowning eyes, we blew out a synchronised sigh.

Now I sit by the open window,

Watching the dandelion wither into the wind,

The people I love collapsed like dominoes,

My marionette smirking through the tinted glass,

The one who now dominates the social class,

And just like the dandelion in the wind,

I had become the reflection that sinned.