yellow flowers / 25.06.18
sweet honeydew sweat drips
from cold, dead lips
and she blinks bright blue orbs
with unmoving lids.
she last remembers
the smell of rain blowing.
her skin is paling and greenish
from rotting decay.
yet a rosy tint is left
on bloated cheeks.
long fingers caress the wood rails, digging in to leave splinters
under her nails.
and she feels happy.
she wished to be a part of this.
bare feet dig into the
soil as she steps down.
covering the land are
blooms, glowing from her rage.
she trudges to the middle
of the field and lay there in
contempt.
she does not regret what
she has done.
the girl asked to be with them.
with her earth because
no one understood.
her chapped smile grew wider
as she sank into the dirt,
burying herself in what she
loved most.
breathing in the pollen,
she looked up at the clouds and
blue skies. this she would miss
but she would always be with
her favourite
yellow flowers.
YOU ARE READING
We Came From The Dark Ages
PoetryA book of poems written by me. Please note, I'm an amateur and am constantly editing my pieces. This is here to get my work out for others to read. If you have any suggestions for poets to check out, please feel free to let me know :)
