A vase holds flowers
That is the purpose of one
I do not hold any
In the past I did
Joyous yellow flowers once
Smiles were a plenty
Blue sorrow as well
Tears rained for petty and grim
At least they were there
My favorite ones
A bouquet of seven red roses
The bundle now whole
A vibrant vase once
Red, blue, and yellow filled me
Like a proper vase
A proper vase whole
Passion, depression, and joy
A balanced bouquet
The Roses wilted dead
The whole bundle followed suit
Grey petals abound
A vase holds flowers
That is the purpose of one
I do not hold any
I did in the past
The deceased petals exhumed
I do not hold any
A/N
Hey there radical peoples. This is my first author's note, so congrats on seeing this. But yeah, this is one of the first poems I really felt proud about back in my Junior year of High School. I know it's not much, and I haven't really gotten much better, but I still admire it enough to share it with the world.
