A Field of a Million Hands

August 14, 2009
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Solemn roses reach desperately
For the sun,
And they curl up at night.
The black dove's flight
Is expected.
The roses are bloody hands.

Rotten flesh seems alive
As they support the crimson blossoms.
These gruesome flowers wait for prey
To occupy their empty day.
I love this garden:
A field of a million hands.





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