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I broke three of my pens, I have alot of blue ink and some black ink on my hands.
 

In fields where nothing grew but weeds,
I found a flower at my feet,
Bending there in my direction,
I wrapped a hand around its stem,
I pulled until the roots gave in,
Finding now what I’ve been missing,
But I know…
 
So I tell myself, I tell myself it’s wrong.
There’s a point we pass from which we can’t return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm.
All because of you
 
I haven’t slept in so long.
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.
 
Inside my hands these petals brown,
Dried up, falling to the ground
But it was already too late now.
I push my fingers through the earth,
Return this flower to the dirt,
So it can live.
I walk away now.
But I know…
 
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