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Peachy
There's a dead flower growing,
growing in cold bloom,
sucking life from the sun goddess,
whispering hard songs to the soft earth,
choosing black against green,
She defies the laws of growth and color,
of love and sequence,
growing at her own pace,
dead looking seemingly alive,
shrunken seeds with fleshy fruits,
pleasing to the eyes,deadly to the heart.
She's a forbidden jewel,
kept in a blanket of shards of glass,
getting torn but quickly stitching back up,
saved by the wind,
mocked by the sun,
now her only guide,the silvery goddess,
slithering through the darkness,
would guide her gently,ever so gently,
into the arms of her demons.
She's beautiful and dark,
beautifully dark I must say,
caressing the tree roots with her sharp talons,
by and by she goes down,
rocking in the chair of doom.
© Nehita baht
growing in cold bloom,
sucking life from the sun goddess,
whispering hard songs to the soft earth,
choosing black against green,
She defies the laws of growth and color,
of love and sequence,
growing at her own pace,
dead looking seemingly alive,
shrunken seeds with fleshy fruits,
pleasing to the eyes,deadly to the heart.
She's a forbidden jewel,
kept in a blanket of shards of glass,
getting torn but quickly stitching back up,
saved by the wind,
mocked by the sun,
now her only guide,the silvery goddess,
slithering through the darkness,
would guide her gently,ever so gently,
into the arms of her demons.
She's beautiful and dark,
beautifully dark I must say,
caressing the tree roots with her sharp talons,
by and by she goes down,
rocking in the chair of doom.
© Nehita baht
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