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SilverDagger Sep 2015
The spectrum of colors
carpet the garden
Flowers can mean anything to us
Flowers can be
Hope
Love
Mourning
Joy
Peace
Rebellion
Family.
But in the end,flowers are only flowers
Innocent and oblivious to
human whims
They grow for the sake of the flowers,
and only the flowers.
We coax them and tame them and pick them and give them meaning
but they don't understand us.
How would they?
We do not speak the tongue of the flowers
And if we did,would they have words for human emotion?
They wouldn't care
Anyway
They don't need to understand us
We would still make flowers our symbols
And they would look on
As if we were beneath them.
SilverDagger Sep 2015
One
one
girl biking
                home
Past the track,scratched in the dirt
the lanes for races
Three
         Two
                                           One.

number one in the race,
and one going home
                                /alone.

in fencing class,only one victory
on bad days

Bad days meant
that
she became
that one girl at school,under the desk
growling and snapping
then she was
that one girl outside the
counselor's door
waiting silently to see
the one who would listen to her but only because she was paid to
                        
but
good listeners are good listeners
--and the one who listened listened
until
that one awkward silence when there's
nothing left to say

and that one girl was happy to be lonely for the first time

(she missed one period)

one click from her bike
as gears shift
pedaling on,
she carries herself away out of sight
to the one place
she's alone, but not lonely

pedaling
away from that girl under the desk,
growling and snapping
away from that girl outside the door
away from the one who listened
pedaling towards
home

Above,the damp grey clouds hang
from the sky
weaving into a
mesh of secrets
guarding the moonlight
from dark tarnished humanity,
/below where the trillions of oblivious stars are one/
down on earth,
we humans are shattered
into minuscule pieces
and the stars would weep to see us shattered(like this)
and that one girl biking home
is only one piece
in millions of pieces
of
one.

— The End —