The tender rose pedal runs.
Its awkward angles carried by the wind.
It doesn’t look back.
The thorns it broke from watch it fly.
The thorns feel too.
A sunlit afternoon under everlasting rain
A resting stroke of chalk ever washed away by pain
A cup that runneth over, only waiting for it’s drain
All inside yours eyes at once is all that makes me sane
A reason to be happy
A reason just to be happy