Beautiful Days

on some beautiful days,

I feel flowers bloom out of my chest:
fragrant and beautiful,
keen on insinuating peace and love.
when it’s happy, my heart wants to watch the world bloom too.

on some beautiful days,

I have to forfeit my flowers and happiness
to make others feel what I feel:
they heartlessly pluck out my roses and lilies by the roots,
and watch as the surface of my heart empties out in holes;
punctured, in the most violent way.

on some beautiful days,

I am yet to learn-
that this is the way of the world,
and it will go any length whatsoever
to make you feel as rotten as it is.

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2 thoughts on “Beautiful Days”

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