I know the person I don’t want to be
Or the webs I do not wish to be caught
Some of which as follies,as lessons taught
Yet the most disturbing ones are the one that i know the consequences of
But I tread on them out of curiosity.
As I lie on this bed of thorns
I wonder where are the flowers lost.
A joke, a second guess is all I’ve be
A scar that yet cease to appall
But more than anything I wish to be
Be the best version of me.
Soon I shall believe in one that’s yet a dream
And on that I shall lose my speech
For that me shall resurrect that is yet deceased.