The flowers i smell
are of a funeral sort
the flowers i smell
were delivered straight
from hell.
tainted and twisted
dead and old,
burnt and fumigated
tinged with a crimson red
from the blood of the hands
which gripped their thorns.
They were once beautiful
now possessed by evil and pain,
the beauty is never to return again,
they were a gift given to
the world but were
destroyed
by one little girl.
her funeral grade flowers were
what kept her alive,
her funeral grade flowers were
the reason she died...
so in the land where she walks
she stands on the thorns
and gives her blood
to the collection
already started,
gives away her pain
and says this is how she departed...
she departed her sorrow filled life,
she found the answers in
the beauty of the knife...
