don't clear your cards,
you have the perfect hand.
seven of hearts,
slipped through like sand

i stand on the line,
i'm all torn.
i tell you i'm fine,
we can't be reborn

"you can't just leave me"
i want to say.
it's not meant to be,
maybe another day

you cleared your cards,
lost the bet
aimed you darts
you get what you get

Do the flowers mourn when one is picked?
I know that question is kinda morbid and sick.
But I’ve always wondered if they somehow know,
Like for weddings and birthdays that it’s their time to go?

Do they feel sorry for lovestruck dames,
That pull off petals whilst saying their crushes’ names,
That pulled the last petal on “He loves me not”?
Do they feel bad that she’s distraught?

Do they compete on who’s the prettiest?
Each person has an opinion of which flower is the best,
Of their looks are they actually aware,
Do flowers even care?