I wish
That my dreams
Didn't give
This garden
Thorns.
And if I thought
Anything
Different
Could exist,
I'd carve
It into
The walls
Of my skull
A million
Times
Until
I went
Blind
Inside.
But where
Would I find the ink
To paint this picture
If I didn't
Cut my eyes on these spikes every time?
But where
Would I find the ink
To paint this picture
If I didn't
Cut my eyes on these spikes every time?
But where
Would I find the ink
To paint this picture
If I didn't
Cut my eyes on these spikes every time?
Every time?