Paper Flowers


The smell of paper flowers breathes softly around my once meandering visage
It indents and permeates the very thing that is my roiling center

I have smelled these paper flowers

I smell them still

I smell them always

Their syrupy fragrance
Thick and dripping
Hangs about a deceived sense of self purpose

Lies that steel stolen sentiment against a pitfall

The scent leaves

Paper flowers bear false fruit

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