paper flowers

I live my life evading death 

in every thought and every step

this bitter year I’ll kill myself

in dream and size and scope

I curse the Gods that never were

instead of men who wouldn’t choose

a price too burdensome to bear

another daughter out of care

I cut up flowers made of paper

with a refugee at work

for kids that only want to game

and play the wars they learned to love

The things I see, they matter not

Until I read them out in verse

in time, I’ll learn to give up hope

for now, I’ll write some more