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The dizzy
The dizzy, that's what they call it
Seems a fluff of a word
Until it cuts deep like a sword
Right in the spot on your head
Making you unable to get out
Of bed, like you're a wallflower
A vine in form of a spine
A red rose head tinted with
Buzzing blood, forget it not
It won't go away before night
It deems itself this hilarious right
Of sticking around for the day
Then, it burns away dry hay
And you're back human again
With somewhat functional brain
To draw flowers on paper
Or pick them up down the road
© All Rights Reserved
Seems a fluff of a word
Until it cuts deep like a sword
Right in the spot on your head
Making you unable to get out
Of bed, like you're a wallflower
A vine in form of a spine
A red rose head tinted with
Buzzing blood, forget it not
It won't go away before night
It deems itself this hilarious right
Of sticking around for the day
Then, it burns away dry hay
And you're back human again
With somewhat functional brain
To draw flowers on paper
Or pick them up down the road
© All Rights Reserved
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