Is it too much to dislike watching plucked flowers slowly dying in vases?
Sweet petals follow my thirst, come die in the path I'm taking, to bloom the colors of May and to burn in crimson and gold.
Turbulent flames embraced me in raging petals of marigold, doubts turned into ashes, and so the fires stilled.
In the gushing of his dreams, he strummed the breeze, calming the dark nights from the loud whispers of pain.
Muted hearts and cotton candy skies, awaiting the sweet summer rain in the silence of midnight whispers, to shout before the sunset ends.
When you know who you want to be and where you want to go, it doesn't matter when they can't comprehend your actions and sacrifices.
Maybe we could talk about dreams, goals, life, or causes you fight for, or how you sleep the frustrations away—but you're a cat.
