A cluster of beautiful flowers in a field,
stems covered in thorns,
She dared to pick one even when they pricked the palms of her hands,
Allowing blood to form droplets.
She fell in love with the pain, she found comfort in it.
While picking her flowers she fell in
Her whole body covered in scratches, blood dripping down Her arms and legs.
She hurt but she loved it, so she continues to fall into the never ending pool of flowers.
Winter came and every flower died,
She had scars covering her arms and legs where fresh scratches and blood used to lay,
And she's broken and waiting everyday for when the flowers may come back.
He was the flowers and she was just the girl who kept falling.
YOU ARE READING
Poems. My storys into words.
PoesíaMy poems. I'm not a professional, pretty far from it, these are really just my thoughts put into words.
