As I lay there in my bed,
I look over at that beautiful vase of flowers next to me,
Thinking to myself,
About how those flowers were once in a happy place,
Away from harm.
Until one day,
the gardener came.
Carrying a tratitional grass woven basket and scissors,
She cuts each flower one by one until there are none left in the garden.
Nowthose flowers are just sitting there dieing in a stinking vase of tap water...dieing,
Just like me in this hospital bed,
Waiting for it to be over.
But all I could think about was those flowers,
Just sitting there,
Trying to make me feel strong,
Powerful,
Beautiful,
Happy.
But all they did was make me fell sad and weak,
But the dieing flowers just kept coming.
Until one day, the last flower died...
And so did I.