Fantasy
Each flower is a pumping heart...
With its mouth sewn shut
Desperately trying to coil around skinny ankles.
Grown on textbook scrolls with;
Arial words crawling up their stems.
They have butterfly wings for leaves…
Beautifully crafted; glowing bright neon auras.
Distracting from the dark ashy clouds hanging above.
The flowers have cloudy small eyes,
That hide the grim ink splatter.
Lust of a dining room nucleus.
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