Do the flowers mourn when one is picked? I know that question is kinda morbid and sick. But I’ve always wondered if they somehow know, Like for weddings and birthdays that it’s their time to go?
Do they feel sorry for lovestruck dames, That pull off petals whilst saying their crushes’ names, That pulled the last petal on “He loves me not”? Do they feel bad that she’s distraught?
Do they compete on who’s the prettiest? Each person has an opinion of which flower is the best, Of their looks are they actually aware, Do flowers even care?
Through the clouds, above the fog, the greatest mountain to witness. Around and around, this enclosed pod, it starts to rain - it would. A few lonely tears kiss my cheeks, I’m proud, and brave, and alone.