A perfect pale rose
hanging
with a golden picture frame
and petals catching on the paint
'the circle of life'
as the rose unfurls
turns brown and crumples
and loses it's features
the wall now covered
in dead flower petals
a waterfall
running
until it reaches the floor.
The flower starts again
as the picture restarts
like a 'Harry Potter' photo scene
it loops.
The waterfall rises
until your knees are soaked
in the pollenated crunch
of things once invoked
It's half past eleven
and the petals are at seven
feet
taller than your head
and yet you can breathe
the sickly sweet smell
makes a throat gag
stumble through the room
the exit far behind
and meet an unlikely death
an abstract life intertwined
with the upset.
The flower petals turn black
dust falls from the sky
as the oily thoughts
once thought
submerge the room
and bad thoughts
turned to sludge
consume the cause of death
until the room is left
covered in black petal dust.
The flower in the painting
turned to coal.
The animation stopped.
All eyes are closed.
YOU ARE READING
Nobody Was Meant to See
Poetry[Trigger Warning, please be safe when reading] They aren't supposed to know. They aren't meant to read these poems that I'm writing. I've concealed them for a reason. -Shitty poems about how I feel-
