A poem not so short
Unbalanced
It offered me a warm, bright light
So I never felt what it's like
To be frozen like an ice
I only found comfort in your arms
In the morning, she sings
As she cooks my meal,
That made the house stink
At night, she comforts me,
As I tell her about my dysentery
Her love was infinite
But the type that one can't restore
And I failed to treasure it
Only if I cared a little more,
I would've loved her even before
But I was filled with busy days
Always rushing, never stays
The roles I'm trying to play,
Keep me from returning her love
In any just way
'Coz I was trying to build a tower
Something to make her stagger
But dear, I was never told
That even for a flower,
Her happiness would be sold
For I saw her throng of floret
Of all the ranges, she only likes violet
"Honey, these are your favorites," she said
Then her eyes teared as I swayed my head
But her grin was unexpected
Now, I'm getting cold
I’m losing my senses but I trolled
Craving the meals from my singer,
The scent of her cooking still linger
But something's gone forever
It's something I failed to hold
Her warmth that kept me bold
Faced my days of misery
'Coz her love had no boundary
But it's what ended our story
After all, she saw how I struggled
Incapable to care enough, equitably
But she offed me as she uttered,
"You knew how to love, Honey,”
"Yet you're in agony, so I'll set you free”
My stomach was aching. My organs were hurting.
She finished my fate with all the flowers I ate.
Who can I blame for her insanity?
Is it me—her company?
Or just herself, a mere deficiency?
Just how different would our story be
If only she was well and spared me.
Maybe it's just the flowers that killed me
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