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Cold Flowers
Puffy with blue eyes
and umbilical stump
cut like a flower stem
into madness,
thrown into a white paper towel world,
squirming and squinting with vernix
So thick we can still feel ourselves
trying to get free from it,
we howled because we were cold flowers
cut out of our vases
and thrown into a place called a world
where we were candles in the wet,
flowers wilting in the cold,
bubbles on the foam.
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A typical depressing piece about the sadness of just being born to grow up and die.