My head is like a secret garden;
A overgrown, forgotten about garden,
A garden where only children see when playing
Through the crack of a wall.
At first i stepped with caution,
Careful not to tread on any of the roses that led beneath my feet.
Now i run through hidden pathways
Tripping over my own feet as i go.
As red as blood
Stand out like a pin-pricked sky,
As if like the people who’ve scarred me;
They looked so pretty but i guess i got too close
And their thorns started to show.
Although the scars that once stung are healing,
They still stand as reminder;
‘Don’t get too close,
My thorns will mangle your once smooth skin
With an arrangement of memories and cold hearts that you’ll never forget.’
I lie down
And let the garden grow over me;
I want to be forgotten too.