Poetry, Uncategorized

Violet


What may become of this
Violet flower withering still,
Drooping slowly, fading into an abyss.
What may become of this
Violet flower withering still,
Its youthful colors lost like a forgotten kiss.
Drunken once in its ravishing beauty
Heavens and Earths stay oblivious.
The Violet flower shrunken becomes
An empty and bitter death’s duty.
The whispers of the rain announce
This violet withered and dead
Crumpled by the forces of this world
It lies torn and drenched in its coffin,
No longer a violet flower.

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