I have heard often of how they smell
Kaas, why don't you go to Kaas? They said
I wish I could,
I refrain from answering why, on the off chance of pity
I need not that from someone, but my trigger finger is itchy
Sadly, the itch in it would transfer to my throat
I love flowers, yet my lungs are afraid of them
For my lovely, cuddly Rhinitis, visits me amongst flowers
A gentle whiff, so generic for most, often under appreciated too
Would be tantalizing to my mind and soul
Yet my mortal shell has a different mind
One day I shall lie down, smell those purple flowers
Then I shall not struggle for breath
And merge into their very soul
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