The blossom of roses and daisies
Flourished with the rising sun.
But how would they perish?
Would they wither slowly?
My throne would obstruct all,
Made from the ashes of petals.
The sun would set over broken fields;
A cementary of beauty.
Yet it matters not.
First come the flowers,
And then the world.
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 8:48 PM UTC
The blossom of roses and daisies
Flourished with the rising sun.
But how would they perish?
Would they wither slowly?
My throne would obstruct all,
Made from the ashes of petals.
The sun would set over broken fields;
A cementary of beauty.
Yet it matters not.
First come the flowers,
And then the world.
I would like to clarify that I am NOT planning to take over the world, this is just following a prompt from my poetry teacher and I based it off an evil character
