Why...why do you look at me the way you do...
Disgust or disgrace...my mind wonders...

Though I liquidate my thoughts with the adult beverages of liquidity....expanding on what an adulterous may or may not be...

My soul grows like a rose beautiful but with pain that pertrudes from the stems of my very existence...

Shall I wilt? Or grow to a branch towards that which is called ecstasy...

Let my pedals wrap you in love and everlasting passion, all the while catch your moist dew that exudes from your ****** curvature...

Let my thorns remind you of the pain I once had from a stem of growth I previously had, so so sad...

Can this grow? Or can the soon to be a wilted soul gaze at the sun that glows with the rays of that which once grown to an imaginative fantasy, though a playful bliss of my imagination...

I yearn to farm such a harvest of bountiful happiness, though the crops seen to cultivate thoughts that once produced wetness on its skin that would moisturize the essence this isnt mine...

I'm still growing...whether it wilt or it flourishes, this garden won't be edaness, yet happy...