the flowers in my yard
each wilt one by one
without love fast and hard
the weeds 'come over run

poppies hang in shame
red petals fall off their bulb
I feel the silent cries of pain
as stems are crushed to pulp

the petals start to die and decay
but you seem to notice little
as long as one exists for play
it doesn't matter if it's brittle

so you pull and pluck and take
the things you once thought pretty
you can't hear a faint heart break
with the loud noises of this city

you tug and whisper far too loud
she loves me, she loves me not
the fog of simple minds will shroud
and twist and tease away a thought

Ever I have longed to take
your hand upon my palm
for all the nights I've lied awake
regretting what I had not done

in morning's rise I had believed
in cleansing of my thoughts
but removal I had not achieved
and was left with not a loss

now as ever, I long to take
under moments rash or calm
in days asleep or days awake
your hand upon my palm