Loving the feeling of flowers,
In the hindsight of killer bees.
Breaking a house to make one,
and am buying some dry flowers.
They are nicer then what nature gives,
They have more age than what you have.
Eventually everyone have to die.
So why not fly like dry flower.
I visited hell, once last week,
there they are happy,
everyone is eating one cookie.
I thus now love only dry flowers.
Death seems more like a charm,
Finding shallow promises alive,
like zombies fighting with me.
I am more myself with dry flowers.
Lets burn alive,
lets sing when we die,
but for they time being,
lets praise dry flowers.
A Poem after many weeks…or is it not…I just can’t stop my self…
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