Flowers

Flowers, they grow ever so beautiful. They sway within the arms of the breeze. Their dance places you within a trance. And soon, you will notice you are on your knees. The flowers whose thorns are hidden. The flowers whose poison is sown. The flowers, they take and are taken from. Oh the Flowers, they couldn't have known. Vines spread like a twisting fire. They consume all within their path. For the vines, they care not for any. They care not for the aftermath. Dear flowers surrounded by thorns. Toxins that bloom from within. Allow them to sap your life. Allow them to reap and win. For in the face of it all, you're meaningless. To fight, to run, to try and change it all. You have no power, a weakling's soul. The more you try, the harder you fall. Dear flowers surrounded by thorns. With poison that steals life itself. With a hunger so ravenous, there is no escape. So scream but no one will come help. But even as the vines take their hold. Even as you start to to close your eyes. There will still be that one butterfly. One that can never tell you lies. It still perches upon your withering petals. It rests and drinks up the poison enough. It sits with you, in your dying moments. It still shows you so much love.