Burning All The Beautiful Flowers


Sometimes I like to hide
away from all the world
so I burn through smooth
flowers for they unfurled.

I’m a master at my craft
know me not you will not
find a tender morsel now;
all precious love is forgot. 

I knew a structure a way
blessed I’ve been please
understand it is not me I
try entertain or set at ease.

I am not tall or wise,
just a man who has needs.
I’m trying to erase my
hurtful emotion’s injury.

I must deconstruct to see
all I breathe is casualty
of disease a consumption
of my ego strong as gravity.

But I love the way I burn
for in it I can find rhyme.
I fall to pieces peacefully
on pages all of the time.

Swaying to the beat of it
in my head all that is red
is the bloodflow and heart
I need to focus my dread.

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