I am grass crawling out of the pot, once all the flowers have rot
Delicate green, spreading your gentle fingers, same color lingers in her eyes
Spent too many tears trying to forget the feeling of making those eyes cry
The years do fly by, but now I just find myself trying to make sense of them
A jumble of puzzle pieces from different sets, cutting and pasting my soul like Papier-mâché
Waiting on the day when I can honestly say I don't need you