Dead flower

I woke up in a garden full of moths.

With the quietness of the surroundings,

fit in the skylight of the top hill mountains.

There can be no better place beautiful enough,

to start the day with a smell like paradise scent.

The scars to mend, the heat wave to fend. All in a glance,

I lose my grace in those muddy trenches. For another chance,

I will again face the heat torrent off, switch my leaves under those lights turned off.

I will reborn again, but this time, with no soiled hands on my skin.

No dirty jar under my seeds, muddy water trickling down my knees.

Here, I can breathe with the conviction to truly never die again.