My hands look so ugly at times.

My hands look so ugly at times.
They dry out,
They are rough.
The remember everything they've
Ever seen,
Ever touched....
The things they've done
(I'm not as bad as some,
but I still don't know what I've become.)

I am a discarded
Chrysanthemum,
Laying in the grass,
my petals falling like Autumn leaves,
birds' feathers floating, floating,
whistling with the wind~~~

Crows surround (--
Oh what an awful sound!)
Screeching,
Squawking

Ripping off my leaves,
Leaving me a mere twig in the sun,
Exposed and naked,

Waiting to
Decompose,
and finally once more be one with the earth.