you keep telling me how my sunflowers just won't grow
and i'm waiting for good things to be reaped but i never sow
my favourite flower's a daisy, you say it's a weed
you're a critic's favourite artist, the recurring fly's kindest deed
i love you so but i'm not sure if it's true
those words you say; i think i'm starting to believe you.
YOU ARE READING
FLAWED MOTION (a writing collection)
Poésie"i suppose i love this life, in spite of my clenched fist." © xelena clarisse, 2015 highest: #104 in poetry