The Daises

Strolling in the woods,
enjoying the gentle breeze,
and the warm, soft sun,
I come to a hill with
a clearing overhead.

Curiously I climb the hill
and find myself in
a field of daisies,
and I drop to my knees
in a world of pain.

All my muscles contract,
and I feel my blood
circulating in my veins
as terror enthralls me.
My whole body writhes in pain!

I look out in agony
and find myself
in a blood soaked field of daisies
and an all too familiar
image of death in my head:

Returning home from school
finding a massacred mother
only recognizable by
the daises in her hand
from her weekly bouquet.

My insides churn
and my joints twist
as I lie in a daze of death,
in a field of daisies…
in a world of pain.