the flowers on my window sill slowly turn to dust
their pedals fall and fall
they are something you can trust.
they hit my body and it feels like a warm hug.
their rotten fingers burn as they touch my skin,
they are warm but i just shrug at the sound of them falling away,
rotting away.
everything has to die one day, death is a part of life
thats what they thaught me in school
they say everything comes to an end
and i think of the wind and the stars and the air
and how they never seem to repair
never seem to be fighting for life.
just like me
and the flowers next to my bed everything will fall apart.
thats the voice yelling in my head,
screaming until my ears collapse and my mind feels dead.
because it hurts so much, so much that everything will disappear one day.
me and you, my mom and dad, my brother and my friends.
i can feel myself breaking again because i dont know how to survive
because i cant watch everything i love fall apart like a dead flower
their pedals burried six feet underground, surrounded by dirt and slowly turning to dust,
rotting away just like the flowers next to my bed
but they are made out of flesh and blood and bones
and eyes and soul, they have a mind and thoughts and a life.
living is like picking up a knife and holding it close to your stem.
evertime you shake or move or make a sound
it cuts a piece away.
until after eighty years or fifty or twentyfive, one day
you loose your connection to the world and fly away, fall down
like a dead flower
thats something you cant fix anymore.
just like the flowers next to my bed.