Queen Media Collective

Clawed hands grasp at the ceiling. Why are the hands here? What does it mean? Death’s claws? 

I know what makes that image.

I know there is a flower on the other end shining in the light. 

I know what created this image, so why all this fright? 

It was fear. I was told that clawed hands don’t hold good stories. 

Wide mouths sing no good songs. 

I have been told to fear this image. 

Fear these claws and screams. You shall know nothing of their pain,

But I know what creates that image. 

There is a flower shining in the light.