Slowly I'll become that flower you loved,
A sunflower, a rose, a tulip bud.

I'll twist, I'll turn, I'll wilt, I'll forever be this guilt.

Slowly I'll be there, and slowly will I twist and fall in,
Throwing myself into the ocean where I can begin.

So shallow, so empty,
Is this all that there is left?

Slowly, slowly I'll be that flower.

Slowly I'll be the one in power.

Slowly I'll find a place where I can open my petals with grace,
Slowly I'll live once again.

Cautiously you will find me on the clifftop,
This time I'll be smiling.

This time I'll no longer wilt,
I'll be tall and strong emptying myself of that guilt.

This time the sun will bless me with all of it's hymn,
and turn your gun.

Feeling cold,
Feeling dead,
With nothing else but dirt beneath my head.

You fill my ground with seeds,
This was all that my world would need.
Slowly I feel them tangle,
Their roots start to mingle.

Flowers bloom and grow from my skull,
Further resting me in a peaceful lull.

Sunflowers, daisies and tulip buds,
Lay all around me brightening the mud.
Slowly, slowly my ground is beautiful once again.

Slowly, slowly my body is repaired,
But yet I am still questioning the when?

Wanting to live again just like them.

The honeybee lands onto the small flower,

A friendship blooming immediately.

The bee talks of pollen and how wonderful it is,

But the flower is silent.

The flower is afraid that it will be used time and time again,

Endlessly dying in a fantasy that we call love.

The flowers don't bloom,
And the bees fall into sudden doom.
The seasons pass by,
With the sun and the water and the people.
Nobody sees.
Nobody buys flowers.
Nobody has nice gardens.
The bees start to fly away,
Some die.
The ladies never receive flowers,
They cry.
The cities are empty and dull,
The people smile sadly.

The girls pants were the colour of lava,
The girl loved sweet doom and drama.

The stars in the sky were acid green,
The boy she loved became very mean.

The cacti had peach flowers,
The clouds would endlessly weep for hours.

She lies quietly on her bed,
The weak flower was her dread.

She closes her eyes and dreams of a new place,
Never wanting nothing more to head out into the dark space...

I am the rain,

And you are the forest floor.

I flood you.

I fill every crevice.

I cause you pain.

I drown you.

But yet you still thrive.

The flower wilts,
Tired, sad, dead.
With the scorching sun and it's burning blaze,
You cry.
It's white hair of age has seen it all,
but it never expected that it's own petals would fall.
They fall surrounding the burning ground,
Once was it fluffy and luscious green,
Once had it fulfilled every flower's dream.
Once did it hold events where teenagers would lay,
Where children would play,
Where kites were thrown into the sky.
Once did the flower wish it were a dream.
A wish for a world that wasn't so catastrophically destroyed.