Day: Jul 31, 2021

Isn’t it scary – collecting wild roses,

Knowing you won’t be able to take them with you

Once the final gate closes?

You always called me cynical.

I used to throw my palms in harm’s way for you,

Thinking it was my pinnacle.

Now you’re getting ripped apart by the thorns.

Everyone warned you, but still –

You burned alive every single thing you adored.

I will take my rose with me,

Enjoying each moment of the destruction,

Forgetting you were once my legacy.

A piece of me will ache all the same.

And I should be happier than last year, but still –

It’s never easy to drown the shame,

So I scream at the rain from my window sill.

-JW