Green vines sprout from my finger tips,
they etch themselves into the gritty cement.
Like a **** to never surrender.
The vines persist to lay their tracks.
Seeing other flowers begin to bloom,
makes me dig deeper never to be pried.
As they intertwine, a fury of untrimmed roses suffocates me.
Instead I choose to fuse with the comfort of this wall
I have no need for flowers, I am here to be alone.
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 11:51 AM UTC
Green vines sprout from my finger tips,
they etch themselves into the gritty cement.
Like a **** to never surrender.
The vines persist to lay their tracks.
Seeing other flowers begin to bloom,
makes me dig deeper never to be pried.
As they intertwine, a fury of untrimmed roses suffocates me.
Instead I choose to fuse with the comfort of this wall
I have no need for flowers, I am here to be alone.