.
.
.
The flowers are scary,
They attract people,
They attract the bees,
They attract the living,
What do they want from us?
Why do they seem so beautiful?
The thorns too seem beautiful,
Beautiful enough to prick our fingers through,
Beautiful to bleed for,
Yet in the end,
They die for us,
Why?
The question is never answered,
Why is the only thing that attracts us,
Dies first?
One day,
When our love is real,
The flowers won't die,
They would bloom again,
They'll grow,
Become a beautiful big tree,
Unless,
Our love vanishes,
And the flower is plucked out again,
For someone else,
The flower is not loved anymore,
It is dejected,
It dies a painful death,
Agonizingly slow,
Day by day,
Waiting for someone to love it again,
The flowers don't seem scary anymore,
For they die for us,
Without a purpose.
.
.
.
- Krishna Parmar
YOU ARE READING
Little Lit-fucks [Unfinished Forever]
Poetry[Here are some of the poems and snippets written by me. Every part is a standalone.] . "You were a priority I couldn't have." "I was a priority you wouldn't want." . "Finding you was a choice, Falling in love was my hell." . "Dedication; These are...