gardens don’t grow by themselves


The air’s tainted of lost and loathing
as the golden sun comes up
She’s still trying to find herself
but she can’t seem to get out
She’s locked in a cage of her own doing
but she’s lost the key somehow
The worlds a bit blurry now
as it continues to let her down
She can’t find a reason to dig
if it’s just gonna get pulled out
She hates sleep
She loves sleep
She’s in a war with her own mind
and i don’t think it’s ending soon
She used to dream in black and white
but now the colors have gotten trapped in
The road not taken hopefully stays that way
Her garden is full but void and she’s applauded anyway
If you would look you’d see the ember light is gone
But you’d rather not implore than ask her
“Why so languor?”
Don’t be fooled, she’s only been inured
to the dull taste of life
Her garden suffers the damage
so the beetles can run free
With the routine implanted now, she’s turned to machine

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