Why do we cut flowers, when they're pretty and beautiful?
But when we look at ourselves, we don't believe that we are.
We just stare at ourselves with so much to say. So much disgust and hate.
Yet, we do nothing but listen to our thoughts.
We destroy our own flowers, but we do keep them to remember what we've gone through. What we had done.
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Life Of Reality
PoetryPoems. From young to old. Happy to unhappy. Friends to family. Poetry to many lines of words. Only one author to write it all. ×××× Ranks: #27 in meaning
