These leaves are scissor sharp
And their colour is deep sea
Hatred, but sometimes they grow
Petals

Waiting for those that pick them
As they could not care.

When they reach the floor
We see the hollows
Closely hiding beneath-
Grass amongst the dirt-less
Dirt,

And when we stare distantly,
It's emptiness shows
Animals feed on it

Making a cursed body; a cure.