Hidden in a bushy zone
You don't know that thy power
Makes a man to grind his bone...
You don't know that thy smell
Beyond oceans has been felt
Dante found himself to hell
After his soul had start to melt
An ancient city has been forgotten
In the shadow of your petal
At your roots has been rotten
Skeleton of man and tempered metal
Oh you sweetest, little flower
Now my hand is bleeding badly
Fell on me a dirty shower
But my bone was feeling gladly...
© Leonard Seiti Wednesday Morning 3AM
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