Out of the eater, something to eat
The wild woods are full of flowers
Out of the strong, something sweet
The garden damp with April showers
A reflection cast, an emerald green
And dazed because amphetamine
Drunken woe, I’m cast below
I stand in front, but barely seen
Barley stalks, as large as towers
But strangled there, amongst the weeds
A maze to wander many hours
Cutting roots, the garden bleeds
I miss my father and my mother
For those that love, there is no other
Spread askew, and severed through
A prodigal son, with hope to smother
Wretched hands, there for clawing
A pool of null is where I’ll go
For light, and love, you’ll hear me calling
Until that day, I’m dying slow