she liked to watch the roses bloom
out by the window in her room
sometimes she felt the world passing her by
but it didn't feel right to sit and cry
even though it was a tough hand she was dealt
she never let it overwhelm her, the way she felt
she found joy listening to the birds sing
in this house she had everything
but sometimes when the night was still
she would wonder how this world could be real
outside her window, outside her door
there was something greater, something more
was this her prison or her haven
the life she had, was it worth saving?
the house smells like medicine, and slow death
there's a struggle in each and every breath
she finds her joys in books and song
puts on a brave face, struggles to be strong
prayers are whispered in her ear
telling her the end is near
and that it's okay to just let go
& find the place where flowers grow