These fake flowers smell like fabricated lies,
With plastic stems and phony leaves,
Put into an empty vase
Clear enough to see the waterless space,
Where I put my hollow dreams.
I pretend, sometimes,
That the smooth leaves wither
And the pink petals fall,
Hoping some sort of reality
That it's fragrance will send me a call,
So I can hold these frail flowers
Close to my fragile face.
"When I die, I want to go peacefully like my Grandfather did, in his sleep -- not screaming, like the passengers in his car"