35. Care

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For every petal of care a shed,
the thorn pierces me a little more,
and yet the trickling blood sweetens the metallic taste upon my lips,
when I see my petals
bloom upon others
like the shroud of
a loving mother
even as I lay
stripped
of my warmth.

Spectrum | ✓Tempat cerita menjadi hidup. Temukan sekarang