She stands there in her garden with a frown upon her face, the toxic thoughts like poison ivy suffocating her thoughts. The pain spreads a prickling like thorns from a rose, yet she stands and smiles through it all. Who would start to care now when no one cared before? The garden she planted has turned against her and is now her pain instead of her escape. Who would start to care now when no one cared before? Now that she stands in the rain of her past and pain still smiling when she just wants to cry. Who would start to care now when no one cared before? When she is bleeding at 3 am and she just smiles at the blood. The garden that was her escape is now her pain.