Flowers

I am like a broken carnation
folded over but still reaching for sunlight
a forgotten scent of perfume that you can’t remember the name of
and every mistake that you still
haven’t made
I am the restlessness when you can’t sleep at night
at the edge of gray subconscious
decisions you made and did not think back on
because your good intentions are the moral compass
guiding you to hell.

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