He started at the bottom, emotionless and heartbroken.
Now he is at the top, but still emotionless and heartbroken.
His music reaches every inch of the earth, but not to his flower.
His flower has awoken.
His flower has bloomed.
Leaving him, doomed.
Alas, his flower is plauged with horrorendous dreams,
She dreams of a monster.
In her sleep she screams.
Terrible screams.
But not for fear of this monster.
But for the monster to return.
The monster yearns to return to his flower.
But cannot.
So then the monster lay,
Crumbled and torn.
His heart feeling as if it was surrounded by thorns.
For his flower might also be his prey.