This is not refusal of happiness
A desperate plea for attention
It is a manifest of emotion
Not some imaginary invention
There is a madness populating my head
Billions of shouting ugly voices
Every one an echo of my own
Spelling my lack of choices
Lately hopeless feelings have grown
A desolate cold orchard
Blossomed a place I belong
I'm welcome but also tortured
I have laid down my roots in quicksand
I'll be withered by afternoon
A pile of wilted petals
Unless I am picked by someone soon
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 7:17 PM UTC
This is not refusal of happiness
A desperate plea for attention
It is a manifest of emotion
Not some imaginary invention
There is a madness populating my head
Billions of shouting ugly voices
Every one an echo of my own
Spelling my lack of choices
Lately hopeless feelings have grown
A desolate cold orchard
Blossomed a place I belong
I'm welcome but also tortured
I have laid down my roots in quicksand
I'll be withered by afternoon
A pile of wilted petals
Unless I am picked by someone soon
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