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Dead Flowers

Dead flowers lying on an unlit table
Dead flowers in a vase on an un-kept mantle
No one is there to water them
Or enjoy their majesty
Because I’m like all of those dead flowers
Uncared for and left to be
But if I could, I’d water the gardens
Bring the flowers back to life
I’d sit with them and chat
I’d weave myself a mat
From the leafs of their past families
Reminding them of what used to be
All the dead flowers in a dim house
Black, Cold, Unloved
The new generation…
We are the privileged ones




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