Flowers bloom in the spring,
Only to die in the cold.
Regrow,
Die again,
The same agonizing process.
Flowers are beautiful and so is the snow hanging off the branches of a tree.
Flowers inhale,
Exhale.
Beauty unappreciated by the sad saps
slowly killing them
just for kicks.
How much it hurts I wonder,
To be seen only to be forgotten.
Over and over again.
