A Black Flowers Fruit

The shaded pictorial of a lesser mood that hangs mournfully from the tree, the tree in which you planted the depressive seed of a decayed sense of humanity from which the first, second and third cut was relayed

Take from the twisted bark of darkened stem and poison bud a flower black with the blood of emotion, such a finer petal that with tears I water into the perfect form to absorb my corrupted thoughts

A tale that reeks of finer things refined by the suffocating vines of the black seeds of flowers of a similar hue, no such light to bless the ground of thorns and sinking vibes under which the bark twisted, all that wonder here consumed

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