How can one be simultaneously emotionally barren yet still feel?
When it all comes to a crescendo and the ****** is resolved
I find a sweet release coupled with a bitter after taste
As the fascinating flavor remains constant on my tongue
I try to release, to interpret, to feel, to taste normally
To rid my tongue, my heart, of this inevitable condiment
Yet it remains, it lingers, as thorn in my neck

To remind me of the days of frolicking in the garden
And of being the one red rose in a field of weeds
But pity did I know, that my leaves fell, my petals became discolored, and my stem leaned to a side
And soon I too was encompassed in weeds
Pity did I know, that all the weeds I saw before, were once roses
How ironic
And I join them as another arises
One that started as a suspicious bud
Yet it blossomed unbothered
And became a beautiful white rose, in a field of weeds.