In daylight’s grace, I thought I’d healed,
From wounds I swore were long concealed.
But in the night, where silence screams,
Self-doubt invades my fragile dreams.

Inferior whispers fill the air,
A dark reminder, ever there.
Though daylight claims I've moved along,
Night unveils the pain's old song.

He gave me dead flowers
So I can smell them every day
The rotten petals falling
The color of decay

The washed out sunflower
The dehydrated leaves
The mold on the water
The color of debris

The richly red rose
Now drooping to the floor
The color of love
Existed no more

But still I saved the flowers
And smelled them every day
And watered them with tears
To let them grow again.

I'm tired
You know?
And just so very
Very
Alone