This flower lives on two ice cubes, a wood backbone, a window view.
Too much of anything is never a good thing.
It only blooms for what it loves.
I am what I am, just not what I was.
I'm not sure of anything, and I don't feel a thing.
I'm letting go of everything I've ever known.
I worship this unorthodox in bloom.
The summer has been thick and dry,
same as the sleep in my eye.
Too much of anything is never a good thing.
A carved smile, like Halloween,
it's just smoke and mirrors.
You see, a dead tree can stand for years.
I'm not sure of anything, and I don't feel a thing.