This flower petal silently grazing me
the burning sensation, the hate,
it only knows how to follow me,
now there will never be another one.

Screaming in the night, the sounds of solitude
when you kick the flower and grind it to the ground
a cold thrill, its life grows old
the precision in pain that trails and ceases to fall from behind,
it only lengthens the short walk.

Tell me is the light there? was there ever a light
to actually be seen,
all I see is the black flag you hang from your
head,
when darkness steals the light
and the pain flows freely like dust on wind,
we must walk into our fear and face it
our own new Death illuminations.
 
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