Genesis After Death
do you really see beauty in my rotting mind
are there rain clouds in my eyes
that the mirror cannot show me
can you really see the life in my veins
that hides itself from me
the strength that waits to be awakened
hibernating in my tired body
underneath layers of withered skin
would you really be willing to help peel back
the surface, to let my new flesh breathe
though it reeks of ancient sadness
and mold; a skepticism of growth
i’ve drowned the seed inside with blood
sweat and tears, yet you speak of its potential
slowly watering it with patient tenderness
softening its hard outer shell
do you still think i have a green thumb
though i have not yet unlocked it
do you really see delicacy amidst the dead
the soul camouflaged in putrescence
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