See the darkness,
the darkness
from below
this broken well.

Spirited flowers,
one for each glade
and if plucked will die,
never meant to sell.

Totem towers,
march up the grassy hill
to reveal an omen,
cracking and clouds fell.

Winter showers,
blood prints surrounded by thorns
to witness the cold carnage
of the mocking bell.

Thanks for the hearts, your all very kind
(These are short thoughts I've written)