Oh no! What did you do To the flower? It took you every minute Of the hour To devour In half an hour That beautiful flower It still tastes sour What you did do To the flower? It wasn't mine, It wasn't yours, It was our flower (w)
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I like this poem for its singular focus, its enigmmatic nature and the constant search for meaning that it provokes.
— Radrook
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Oh no, I can't believe I wrote it. May I ask for the meaning it provokes? Please, tell me. Your comment makes me feel kind of uncomfortable, and I don't know why.