Flowers

The flowers are so beautiful this time of year.
They remind me of when I was young, when there was hope.
You know, before the world became what it is today.

They can be any colour I can think of.
Blood roses, peach bleeding hearts, sky lilies, and of course sun chrysanthemums.
The flowers remind me of hope.

In spring, I like to sit in the apple trees with their blossoms.
My tear-stained cheeks become flushed with colour for a few minutes, before I remember why I'm there.
The flowers remind me of what the world has become.

Now I lay in the meadow.
I hold dying black roses and bleeding hearts in my pale hands.
The flowers remind me of the hope I lost, and what I will never find...