Have you ever felt stuck
as if the sands of time are slipping through your fingertips
and as much as you try to grasp them
to take them back
you can't.

The wind carries them away,
leaving you stranded
deserted on an island of misery
and doubt.

Do you feel yourself slowly sinking
into the never ending abyss,
as if your island can't stay afloat any longer
and as much as you try
there is no boat coming to save you.

No matter how loud you yell,
you are alone
                   stranded
                                 sinking
                                               stuck.

Roses grew in the depth of her heart,
Daisies sprouted from her lungs.
Daffodils arose frome instide her stomache
and lillies formed on her tongue.

She spoke so sweetly,
innocent and kind.
But as this little girl grew up she found
That flowers will die.
and weeds will grow.

Winter..
it is the season of white
it is the season of death
                                                                             everything is as cold
                                                                              as I am          
                                                                               in a way I am warm...      
it's when I can cut
and no one will notice
because everyone has long sleeves

If you find two broke pieces
and put them together
will that fix it?

                                                                                                                                                      I am broken
                                                                                                                                                     so are you
                                                                                                                                                     maybe together
                                                                                                                                                     we can feel whole?

I used to be afraid of the deep end.
                                         The fear of dying..                                 It kept us apart.
Now the feeling of drowning,
                                           is a rush of relief,
                                                                     as if a tidal wave,
                                                                                                            pulling me under

They say a flower can't grow without a little rain.

                                          but isn't it also true that too much water...
                                                                                                                         kills the flower.