6 Am Nonsense

The world does indeed do wonderful things through exploding skies

I cannot stop but wonder where the flowers will grow tomorrow

Perhaps will they escape to new lands and settle there when all dies here

But still all this will be drenched in the coming veil of cold winds and fog

Aware of that time of death I am, but naught do I cower or care

For I would not mind being swept away by misty morning winds anyway

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