She stands there in her garden with a frown upon her face, the toxic thoughts like poison ivy suffocating her thoughts. The pain spreads a prickling like thorns from a rose, yet she stands and smiles through it all. Who would start to care now when no one cared before? The garden she planted has turned against her and is now her pain instead of her escape. Who would start to care now when no one cared before? Now that she stands in the rain of her past and pain still smiling when she just wants to cry. Who would start to care now when no one cared before? When she is bleeding at 3 am and she just smiles at the blood. The garden that was her escape is now her pain.

Another year passes another tear of youth passes, with forever growing itch of fingers to take fate into my own demise to decipher where and when it shall go down.
Staring at the glow of an arura that fate realises, a dull groan rises up I start to pace, fingers itch even more how I am so close yet so far.
The dull yellow light teases and mocks at my hesitation, I take two swift steps in an action in a moment I grasp the arura in my hands.

Moulding clay of cream shaped into smiles and laughs, Oh how I can fool they by the masks I put on, Rarity of one seeing them as they are masks lies, They become victim to time and age cracking and peeling, Painting over the peels moulding over the cracks deformed it looks not human, Dug up the garden is in search for clay, Digging and searching like a hungry animal for food the need for the mineral grows, Hands covered in dirt and rivers of blue gorges of red leek, The dirt stings yet I go on in search for the mineral, Grasping the clay I start to mould white paint gracing over with red and hazel pops of colour, Anew the cracks and peels a new has replaced the peels and cracks placing the mask with the rest I stare, She is inside her cave as she stares as I look at my work, She is safe she is away from pain she is hidden from the outside world she is protected she will never leave, Because she means everything to me.

Honey thick and golden sticky and healing,
Warm to the soul like words of kind,
Dear child of Honey, be sweet, sticky, warm and kind to all around,
No matter how cane they may be,
Bitter, hard, brown, sour or cold be Honig to them,
For one gift of Honey shall turn from a creek into a river.

Spreading like wildfire like a ball of fire, numb spreading and burning.
Concerning gazes trace me false and out of place emotions, motions of my words lie.
So I cry when I lay in the night, biting the inside of my mouth as I whimper.
I whisper my prayer for help, numbness consuming me and only she knows it’s her fault.

26.4.2020

I give but do not receive, I put forth effort the energy is not matched. The love I put forth I desire it to be matched, but alas I arrive fully handed I leave empty-handed. It leaves a numb feeling in my chest and a parasite in my head of thoughts that go unsaid, I scream out in hopes and prayers you give back the same energy I gave. I stand there are you stare I pray you to say the words I tell you in need for the same reply, I love you I do so don’t make me do something I don’t want to. Apply the same energy that I do on the twine of energy crafted a forged by two, flourish this flower of love or it will die and pain with a flourish. I scream out to you my dear hears my cries that are so silent apply the energy change what needs to be improved so this love can live.

Red leaves falling from trees oak,
Breeze so soft sways softly dancing with leaves of colour,
Softly floating to the ground of stone.