Darkness is soft.
Light is piercing,
and dark is soft.
It’s funny how
that all works out.
She and I
are best friends,
or we used to be
till dark made amends.
She found darkness
in her heart.
It worked around her
till she gave start.
Those plants.
Those awful leaves
ruined her life,
tucked in her sleeves.
And now she’s there,
on the floor.
Lying there
nevermore.
She loved those plants.
That gross power.
That horrible stuff.
One tiny flower.
I’m sitting here
writing this story
ready to go
write something more gory.
I believe that the weed is a drug allusion, i thought that was very good. I also thought that your move to less rhythmic writing, and more free hand was also effective in the kind of poem you presented.
She loved those plants.
That gross power.
That horrible stuff.
One tiny flower.
Fits the theme well.
i would give this an 87/100
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