What about flowers that can't breathe?
I pass through thorns, saving the foot
I am no stranger to the politics of flowers
.
People avoid thorns
I have been wounded by flowers
Flowers are flowers, they are surrounded by eyes
The thorns are useless in safety
It is fragrant and will be scattered in the winds
The problem is with the flower, where will the flower go?
Flowers are the only flowers that come to mind
You smile whenever you can
Although the flowers are bought for themselves
If anyone asks, I will say that he has sent it
Even today, someone might send a gift of flowers
Butterflies are hovering over a glass vase
This is the story of Shabnam's tears
Eyes watering, face soaked
I wanted to offer her a rose
He was a rose himself
We have also touched the thorns gently often
People are painless, they file flowers
