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Dare I Say? Dare I say the flowers have wilted? Dare I say what she’s long forgot? Dare I say this heart's been stilted? Dare I say this horse can’t trot? Dare I speak of nature’s feature— One where all the world lies dead? As we lie found in this garden, Maggots crawl where dreams once bled. Creeping, crawling, silent guests, They gnaw at hopes and lay them to rest. Which memory shall they unearth? It matters not—we’ve lost our worth. The wind blows over our cold forms, Scattered bones whisper of our decay, Nothing wipes away old memories, Like minds decayed to lifeless clay. So dare I equate this poem to meaning? In every breath, potential lies. Dare I glimpse a spark still gleaming? No—I’ve found comfort where hope dies.
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