Burning Florist
I came with flowers, with hopes and love inside, but never knew to a florist, i was gifting — to a florist, who was burning her own flowers, and ashes settled on my bower.
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Open Your Eyes
Sometimes without saying anything, I just start thinking What are we Where are we going Is there a stop of the dead walkers Is the human race worthy of living? We don't care of others We don't even care of our mother We are just going We are just fulfilling our own desires We are just becoming dead walkers We are just moving In the name of developing We are killing our mother We are searching for life on another planets, But aren't caring the one gift we are already having We have to think about Earth which have given us birth Dear human race Stop following the blinds Stop upbringing the deads Make your eyesight a little broader and foresee the Great's Future!