Flowers that whistle
With bones shaped as thistles
They're Catching my ankle
And drawing some blood
Fanged grass
Skin pasture
Tissue for Roses
And tastes buds for posies
The fingers are nosy
They're grabbing my hand
Veined bark
Ground heartbeat
The heartstrings are blooming
With traps they're consuming
They're hungry for morsels
They tear at my flesh
Fanged grass
Skin pasture
The lots terrifying
With crops multiplying
The forest of violence
I cradle my wounds
Veined bark
Ground heartbeat