May 30
they picked the brightest flower;
not the one
wilted,
bent at the stem,
dull from too little sun.
i never expected it to be me—
but god,
i wanted it to be.
not the one
wilted,
bent at the stem,
dull from too little sun.
i never expected it to be me—
but god,
i wanted it to be.
(16/F/London)
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