bad soil

Only the eyes 

she reveals the real 

all the marks, scars, and scrapes people left behind 

underneath all that soil 

a fragile seed; rooting 

into bad weeds 

of should've done 

could've done 

grown from the brightest of the bright 

yet sprout with hate 

looking for that dark shadow to rain 

blood eye tears

feeding the heart of the roots 

her main source 

to the pot of evil 

infecting  the daisies and wildflowers 

while trying to intertwine their vines into mine 

without a worry 

only in the eyes 

she shows no emotion 

no words but yet 

Bloodshot red tears 

so coldhearted 

her vines 

burning through 

the soil  

from her head down to the root of her toes 

to the black rusting underneath her fingertips 

seeming to her brain 

as if 

that was all her soiled soul needed 

to live 

to survive the blood storm 

that was to come

cause in this garden 

the sun will never shine

and where the roots grow to die 

leaves will never bloom 

into primary coloring 

only dark shades with dried piddles 

but as long as her eyes bleed 

every root that is planted 

shall grow off her evil soul 

that mistaken for bad seeds 

a life-like soil that never grows