oh rotting flower oh how pretty you look sitting in your vase how nice of your purple pedals to open and curl and your leaves to wilt and crunch under my heavy hand
such a paradox that you sit upon my table slowly meeting your end, painfully I would imagine, as we "ooo" and "aww" at your grandeur and rarity such a fine line between acceptable death, beauteous death, and ugly smelly death
one day your wilting stem and **** was cute in a sad way oh rotting flower how I feel for you as one would feel for a friend being laughed at or taken advantage of
because I know what end you will meet at the hands of coveting eye