Another Poem
life is a flower, beautiful and sweet. Only during certian times of the year. Why can't it be, that all the colours we see, are just apart of the show? It's funny becasue that's not how life works. We aren't just different flowers taht smell. We are different stages of bloom, with different like and needs. More sun less rain More clouds In the days. But flowers are flowers. What's so different about them anyways.















