Erik Gillette Poems
The flowers are dying
and while they try to buy more time
we are ever watching
waiting for the time to come when they just give up
when they exclaim in their small voice... enough
why do we pressure beauty to be more beautiful?
As if we are any more dutiful to our own selves?
The flowers look at death not as a punishment.
Nothingness to them is as a reward.
We see these flowers, dead, wavering in the wind.
Are these Beauty's less deserving then your own kin?
Should they be shamed?
Should they be blamed?
and picked ...