Corn Field (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Violet flowers in the yellow corn.
Red splashes on the green blades of grass.
Like the grass and the flowers we invaded this corn field,
And like the grass and the flowers we are more eye-catching than the actual corn.
I still love you,
Even though you have grown colder lately.
And I would never hurt you,
But you did not seem to understand.
It must have been the flowers,
The violent violet flowers,
They forced my hand,
Because I would never hurt you,
And even now when you are colder than ever,
Black eyelashes on white skin,
I love you.
I want you to know that I love you.
Tell me that you know I love you.
But the violent flowers sway with the corn in the breeze,
And the red dries to brown,
And you won’t speak to me.
A Bolg? 