(Tw: mentions of shooting)
Like how blossoms bloom,
The wind sweeps away like a broom.
The leaves fall down,
As we spot a woman in a gown.
Her hair so smooth,
She moves with a groove.
Her white dress so flowy,
The light around her so glowy.
The petals spin,
Smelling like gin.
This love-
It feels like a bliss!
The trumpet blows,
As the saying goes-
"Squeak squeak squeeeeeak"
The rats run and hide,
As the girl in the dress survived.
*bang, bang, bang*
It went,
Until she heard that last one, she wept.
It was the end of the line,
Her curse, it went of just like a mine!
"Run, run, RUN!!"
She thought,
But it was too late for she had been shot.
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