Sometimes, dreams can become scorched sun flower,
We burn too hot and snuff our gun, flower.
We crave for light but can’t handle the heat
Darkness exchanged in place of a ton flower
The tapestry of an amateur art
Colours that once looked like fun flower
Of yellow, to orange, and then to black
A trilogy about a won flower
I, Vera, once craved for beauty and sunshine
This story is about that one flower.