My Little Flower

                          My Little Flower

Today I met something detatched from me, for you and all to never be.
From little to nothing I find in comfort a little sting from lusty wonder.

What happen to that final hour where lust is gone now rain and shower.
My pleasure was taken my bed remain I cannot sleep without the rain.

To whom it bee but my flower is it raining at the hour?
Wonderwise it makes me smurk a sicken man is low as dirt.

A beam of light my floer saw two hands and nails are to be gone.
My little flower of guilt and pain I water down with my rain.

They say I man, I go differ it is within me the shake and tremmor.
I plucked the flower from the earth now only wilt in remains.