Withered flowers are what remain with me.
All profound fragrances are gone.
Only flashbacks remain with me—
Lovely, but dreadful,
Because they were the ones that kept me sane.

Normalcy—I try to act it,
But it feels like something insane is acting within me.
Flames that burned out the petals of the purple ones,
Ingrained images—the screams, the cries.

The body that once held me in its arms
Has just become dust,
And I couldn’t do anything about it.
I couldn’t do anything...