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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

flowers and youth


Guest Phoenix

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Guest Phoenix

i remember unwrapping flowers

before the time when innocence was lost

peeling layer upon layer

until the centre, the magical answer

unravelled before me like natures puzzlebox

 

i would sit

skirt ruched up between my knees

hidden quiet between the trees

watching parisioners mingle

searching in the flowers for the beginning of things

and envying them their certainty

 

i learnt young how to pretend

how to bend the knee, and please

say please, and curtsey oh so cutely

and dimples would spread and candy be thrown

while in the meantime behind the shutters i

would watch them distainfully and disown

 

furled around myself in my secret place

in full view, but secret-held

i would concentrate on the minutiae

hoping that somewhere in the smelly mess

of broken petals and seeds i would find

the _why_ of the flower

a logic i never found

in the large building

which swallowed my voice whole

and left me wondering after my soul

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