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