By Kiara Bhushan
Among the lilies
I once walked upon
have now withered
and been replaced
by the red flowers of death
though one may tremble
at the hear of death
to a botanist, each flower is as beautiful
as the blooms of death.
In this afterlife,
whether I end in hell or heaven
My single yearning
is for the beautiful melody of death
to play at my end.
Through this blood,
I shall create a spiderlily,
to sprout for all eternity.
Really very nice
Really very nice