Questions about the untouched past,
answers only found in reverie.
The secrets of the universe,
erratic, enigmatic,
locked in a garden of fear and memories.
To grow a flower is simple –
Air, water, sunshine.
And quell the storms,
as seedlings sleep beneath the earth,
growing, blooming, alive.
But people aren’t flowers.
And your words are a pretty soliloquy,
until you’ve realized that the very world
that once seemed a lovely garden,
is now a lost menagerie.
A mirror might not have answers,
nor can any map lead you home.
Because no matter where you go,
you can’t forget the past,
how you were grown alone.
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 9:11 PM UTC
Questions about the untouched past,
answers only found in reverie.
The secrets of the universe,
erratic, enigmatic,
locked in a garden of fear and memories.
To grow a flower is simple –
Air, water, sunshine.
And quell the storms,
as seedlings sleep beneath the earth,
growing, blooming, alive.
But people aren’t flowers.
And your words are a pretty soliloquy,
until you’ve realized that the very world
that once seemed a lovely garden,
is now a lost menagerie.
A mirror might not have answers,
nor can any map lead you home.
Because no matter where you go,
you can’t forget the past,
how you were grown alone.