[Pre-Creative Writing Class Poem]

My mind is a scarce place
Now.
Desolate, if you will.
My fingers have been removed
Therefore I can no longer Pick. At. My. Brain.
I have thrown away my
Visitors pass.
And it seems as though all living
Has died.
Including all the pretty flowers
I once cared for there.
In that world.
There.
The flowers are untouched,
But all of them wasting away.
This has become an almost nightmare,
Watching all the flowers die.
My flowers.
Dead.
Untouched by me,
Wasting away.

.Alyss.
1.5.11