I have dead flowers.
They're in my room, Not more than five feet from my bed.
I never could throw out
Things that were once stunningly perfect. I can just remember those moments.
Those flowers, The childlike daisies,
I picked those on the day I vowed to turn it around, But they're gone now, Along with that suffocating delusion.
The fanciful roses?
I got those the day I won a trophy. I'm not even sure why I won.
That day I let my mind Stich together
Unattainable dreams. Dreams of art, of grace. Irresponsible. Frivolous. They're long gone now.
Yet still these flowers sit.
But I still keep them
Just in case, one day, I'll wake up, And they'll be alive again, And maybe I'll be alive again.