October 8, 2017

Roses are red, bullets are fed, into the hearts, of those we wish dead.

Violets are blue, a curious hue, covering the graves of all but you.

Roses are red, violets are blue, humanity is a dream, never coming true.

Flowers are picked, leaves are tossed, onto the ground, of what we've lost.

Seeds are planted, actions grow, destroying the earth we once had known.

(Fun fact: I randomly wrote this on someones Instagram post because the captioned it "Roses are red....... Finish the caption". Why am I so extra?)