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Rae Hering
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Little Scared
The graveyard flower quivers in
What seems to be a thin
And underneath the skin Pass of air (air).
Fromthe pits of life unfair
Their contents seem to stare
Complacently, but secretly are
Envious of those with breath.
The dead have left their breath
Wandering upstairs
Making little flowers scared!
Lovely, retreat within our decay,
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Burrow into our bount'less bouquet.
Carcasses push through the earth,
They rip her roots
From the dirt,
They'll sacrifice a flower's life
For the smell of something nice.
The dead have left their lives
Wandering upstairs
Making little humans scared!
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