I peered for a gist for my unnamed life,
but I couldn't find it.
The next day I took a flower
I burned it instead of smelling its scent.
Fire devoured it, It was all gone.
That's when I realized
my life is merely a burned flower that couldn't live like other flowers.
YOU ARE READING
Flowers From The Old Tree
Poetry'I open my eyes more often to see beautiful things in ugly things because nowadays no one is appreciating the beauty in the ugliness.' This collection of poems is a pile of papers that were lost and mostly ripped off, i could really relate to the...
