Hothouse flower
Waterlogged
All worn down
By a salty fog
Silk born
Thin skin
Weak from the breeze
You don’t have
To earn anything
To survive
You don’t have to try
Gifts arrive
If you desire
Still you dream
Still you scream
Like a bird at dawn
It feels unfair
To be so square
While others have something
To fear and feel
Sallowed, useless
Nothing is at stake
So you cultivate your taste
Imagine a struggle
Copy your scene
Mannequin
In faux greenery
To survive
You don’t have to try
Gifts arrive
If you desire
Still you dream
Still you scrеam
Like a bird at dawn
It feels so dumb
To be so numb
While othеrs have something
To fear and feel
Oh to be mud born
Rise from the ashes
Telling the troubles you’ve seen
Hothouse flower
Cries from her window
Faking her own suffering
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