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Flowers.

Love decay
A flower dies on the
Place it was grown
It is cremated as if
It were a human soul
I cannot find my soul.

Author notes

Written in an old art class.

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Comments


  • Syringe
    December 3, 2008
    Edit | Reply
    I can't find my soul, either. Love this poem!


    • uneternal
      December 3, 2008
      Edit | Reply
      Interesting way of living, isn't it? Feeling as if you have no soul.. anyway, thanks. :3 And I'm sure you have a soul, too. X3