Sometimes in the summer, I walk amongst the flowers.
The lilies and the roses and the daffodils,
Swaying about my knees.
Above they are a sea of colour and beauty,
Rippling in the soft breeze.
But below they are harsh.
Covered in thorns.
Scratching at my calves and shins until they are painted red.
If you could see through the stalks, you'd notice a glistening crimson amongst the green.
But no one can come close.
I continue to wade my way through them,
Until there is no skin left.
Until there is only muscle.
Then bone.
And that is when I stop and look down,
At the beautiful sea of flowers,
All around.
