No one cares
The soul decides what blood it takes
From these conflicts and problems of everyday
From my living for the grave
Confused, aren’t you? When I appear
The one with a voice always too low to hear
She knows there is no more to say
You’d die before you’d ever change
And they want all from me; stripped worthless at their word
I take enough from the hurt but I beg for the worst
Smothered within this fog
I’ve watched unmoved for far too long
I wanted to paint another flower. I had a hard time working out what I’m trying to say with it here, but it’s close to representing how surroundings can strip or drain the best out of something that used to thrive. Or the reverse as in the surrounding world being toxic, draining the life. The darker green and pattern on the inside going against the jagged bright shapes all around…trying to keep a sense of control when it’s already too late for that, but I’m just thinking too far into it. Never mind.
The poem is now also a song. I gave it the same title as this painting just out of the similarities I see exist in the message of both. The beginning lines are old scraps from years ago that I wrote but couldn’t find a place for. Just recently did I finish tying up those loose ends and make sense of them in some way. For whatever reason, I couldn’t just throw them all out like they probably should be.