“All my roses like to go,” He says looking outside. “I am sure they’ll come again, In the spring they’ll come out, Wherever they do hide, And I’ll be able to rest.”
Something has eaten my flowers...again And I am not sure who to blame. I take such nice care of them But they never seem to grow. Maybe there is a mole… Yes feasting away my crop Or perhaps I am too early And the chill has made them stop. I say laments and I cry But all I ever do Is shrivel up and die.
I will try something else, Roses always die too soon I will try something else! And then I do nothing. Weeds and vines grow about Clogging my drains as they sprout. My garden feels empty All I want is one thing But then I'm left with plenty.
You once had a nice presence Here some time ago But then one day you stopped And left me all alone. Roses, they are telling me That I am not the one they want Somehow I’m not good enough And I should just stop.
Barbous thing you tricked me Was it ever mine to want That i gave you all the conditions And you gave me naught. So I look in puddles And hear about others success But all I do is wilt And in it I regress.
I feel like gypsum A minor step in between Stale and used Time has expired for me. Why are there so many vines, Why is there so many weeds, All vexing me in all directions I wish I could fall asleep.
My face is cracking plaster As I start to weep I feel my mind sinking And I start to dream. You are the ****** one With little of success. I am the ****** one, They know what is best.
I changed everything So i could be adequate I played the role they liked But in the end I am looked at In bitter thoughts and spite.
There is a curious thing growing in my garden. The vines have blossomed And the weeds bear fruit. Is this the allure of sadness Or just an unrealized truth Because I sit and look At the thing I ignored.
So here I take What has been given And we brush away The mistake I’m living So stop with all this fake peace You should have been Honest with me.
So find some sugar songbird, You can bury me alive. But I’m not the one Having something to hide.
Here is my garden, There is plenty of space And i don’t want to live Under your passive glance.
Here is my chance I’ll try to let go. But I am the memory of someone They will always know.
symptoms include: brushing my teeth in the middle of the day wearing my pajamas three days in a row failing classes i understand listening to regina spektor's old albums on repeat wearing your flannel to sleep talking to myself, forgetting you aren't around
fatality rate: high
recommended: a soft kiss on the lips at two am as we fall asleep talking about committing arson
i miss kissing you and talking about faking our deaths together. in the room we probably shouldn't have hotboxed <3
awaken all people and try, try, try if it can't be done should we all just die that's not the conclusion we're all searching for at least if we try, we might find the door get up off your but and learn all the facts the country’s gone crazy by the way we all act let's see things, with respect, and love our fellow man before it's too late and we lose the whole plan