when she speaks, she sometimes falters and says too much, or more often, too little. she holds back in fear. in fear of saying the wrong thing and being hated, or the right thing and being loved. so she finds solace in ambiguity. vague is a wall she hides behind... perhaps she has just grown accustomed to doing so.
it is quiet behind her fortress. no one can hurt her.
and so she plants roses with her tears and the flowers grow tall.
and so she plants roses with her tears and the flowers grow tall.
No comments:
Post a Comment