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Just a poem. What do we know about flowers?. |
Flowers
If I was born Last century Then this had been Decades ago
Mirror tells me I'm no longer, me My hair is whiter Than winter's snow
Myself became Something striving Whose name I do not Want to know
I'm messed up more Than mess, and thriving Through existence From top to toe
If flowers are Destined to die Then flowers, why Are destined to grow?
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