I don't understand
Why everything I do
Is translated to the fact that I should be dead
But when that happens, let my body turn to flowers,
And give the world a gift
The gift of the fact that I do not exist
To spare the earth the pain of knowing me
I am the weed in the beautiful garden
The broken toy in the toy chest
I am simply meant to entertain
And not speak a sentence
But let the words flow from my mouth in waves
And blossom into faux flowers
that were never alive in the first place
YOU ARE READING
-poetry-
PoetryPoems I have written :) trigger warning for the ones who need it, some of my poems may be a bit dark..
