'If hanahaki was real,' thought the brunette as they stared into the distance
'I don't think I'd have survived.'
The signs start with that pit in your stomach, The seed of the disease slowly growing and planting roots.
"Hey dude, you ok?" I come to my senses, Looking at the concerned person with short black hair sitting behind me.
The roots spread all around you, Your mind, Your blood cells, Your soul, Your heart.
A moment of staring passes, I decide to be truthful with my answer.
And it starts feasting on your life force, Chowing down your will to live, Replacing it with a desire.
"Truth be told, No, Not really at all." I slightly shake my head, A tired smile adorning my face.
"Why don't you come sit next to me? Isn't it lonely sitting by yourself in the row?" They comment. Mentioning the fact that I'm the only one of my friends to be sitting behind them.
And even if I appreciate the offer...
A desire of that persons love.
I'd rather be closer to them.
The spiritual form of all those flowers blooming in ones body.
As time passes, Despite my eyes opening up a slight bit, I feel a need to spit my guts out.
But those flowers grow with the affection you harbour towards them.
As I get closer to the bathroom, I feel a familiar sense of things rushing up my throat.
And when they don't have enough space,
They are left with no choice,
'Hanahaki isn't real,' I say to myself.
'But these soft blue rose petals coming out of my throat are.'
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