It bleeds, stings, and itches
Now I\'m waiting for the flowers of this reopened wound to come out
But there are no flowers,
Just like the last time I waited for an entire garden to come out of my own body,
Instead, I got a forest full of dead leaves
And now I know,
I don\'t bleed bouquets and there is no garden inside of me
I am a haunted house, and my ghost and all of the ghosts of the people I tried to forget scream inside of me
They rest in my cemetery heart, with only their bones to pick
There are no flowers in my blood and I don\'t feel pretty when I ache
I just bleed and bleed, and nothing else.