So many flowers

All that's joy is superficial.

All this pain dictates our grief.

All our hopes? Are dashed before us.

So many flowers,

consumed by weeds.

Laughter points out those naive, or those who'd taunt, jaundiced belief -

That, ever row to hoe? It's mocking.

So many flowers,

consumed by weeds.

Failure magnifies the weak.

Our, world is bigger than life.

The dead? They're all out there, smiling.

Planting revenge.

Planting revenge.