When people come and go, whose fault it is?

When people come on our blooming lawn

With buckets of memories to plow and to grow

One day soon, why should they go?

Is this how everything should really flow?

Why should the warmth of their joyful souls

Cover our freezing holes and wholes

When in storms they’d have no ropes

To pull us up from down below?

Why should they dare to knock and roam

In the emptiness of our closed doors

When in fulfillment they’d choose to go

To make our rooms abandoned and cold?

But isn’t anyone else’s fault

But ours, and ours alone?

For we should have always known

That all blooms could be our woe

It’s when bees, butterflies, and everything that swallows

Drain our gardens through endless sorrows

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Bloom’s Doom | Derims