Bleeding from the sun

Flowers bleed out like a wounded animal,
Violent red flows from our veins,
Ready to rupture and stain,
Crimson masks put on like smiles,
Tightly fitted with a barbwire crown,
Cutting into our skin, the memories and triumphs,
Lacerating our minds, with victory
Our petals fall gently as time passes,

Covering the ground with serenity,
Knowing that one day we will bud again,
Fresh and new,
Pollinated honey, our essence and climax,
Rigid reproduction, forceful domestication,
Our seductive stamen, abused by baggage,
Soulless soil at the base of our roots,
Pain and anguish our watering can,
Such is a cycle in the sun.

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