I don't pick flowers really
But I appreciate the beauty

From the day I was born I told a lot of flowers they are beautiful
And yes they were beauty ,full
So then when I liked a flower
I said I like this flower
But then I liked many flowers
So to signify that I liked a flower more
I said I love this flower
Slowly I loved alot of flowers
But then a week later I picked a flower
And said that I love this flower too
But more than the others

And the other flowers said "***** you"

And this is why I told myself not to go picking flowers

Forgotten feelings.
Unearthed memoirs.
A relapse...
How suffocating.

I tried grasping some sense
From a withered feeling.
Locked for ages, I felt
A nostalgia seeping.

Shadows greeted me;
While drowning my existence.
Even my trusted allies
Failed to show their presence.

My essence has been devoured
By inner demons awakened, I tried
To understand how I denied,
The past I secretly buried behind.

Why did I become so blind,
And moved backwards throughout time?
Clinging on a simple dream,
Dreamt by a twisted mind.