I lie here alone in the dark, no movement, no sound, no nothing just silence. Surrounded by the many poppies growing from the cracks of the floor.
The wooden floor so hard, the darkness so dark, silence so silent. The full moon bright and shiny, singing a sweet lullaby along with the millions and millions of stars.
What a peaceful night, a beautiful night, a silent night.
Even though it's such beauty, I can't enjoy it. All I feel is piercing pain and sorrow.
My heart aches, my eyes burn, my throat pleas to scream, yet I don't.
I won't give in, I won't disturb the bats, the rats nor the cats.
My hair turned to wood and grown roots, not letting me move my head. Arms, shoulders and hands covered in the beautiful bloody red poppies.My dress and shoes in to dirt and my legs into roots.
My eyes are now of little yet to blossom poppies and lips of soft moss and nose of wood.
I'm not human, I'm not a forest. Who I am? That's something I do not know nor want to know.
But I know this that I'll lie here unmoved with the poppies for eternity.
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