Your poetry is a story,
the story of your life
Drowned in flowery, rosy words
carved from heart by knife
And as your words
grow and grow,
thoughts tangled up in vines,
I begin to see you clearer, dear,
beyond those clever rhymes
Because what those flowery words conceal
is all those thorns you hide,
the music of why
you'll end your life
and how many times you've tried
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 7:55 PM UTC
Your poetry is a story,
the story of your life
Drowned in flowery, rosy words
carved from heart by knife
And as your words
grow and grow,
thoughts tangled up in vines,
I begin to see you clearer, dear,
beyond those clever rhymes
Because what those flowery words conceal
is all those thorns you hide,
the music of why
you'll end your life
and how many times you've tried
