Sometimes, you're left...
On your own
To be strong,
To hold on...
To catch the glass in times,
When it tips off the edge...
Just before it shatters
Into a million little pieces...
And then sometimes,
It grows
On you, and within...
Like unruly weeds
In a postcard garden,
That you never managed
To uproot.
Like vines of the wildflower,
The branches of which you tugged
But which seeped,
Into your walls...
You thought you could cut them
And throw them off to burn...
But you knew
You'd meet them again,
After the next autumn...
'Cause sometimes
You know,
You have to let it go....
You have to let it grow,
In your not so perfect garden...
