They call me flower boy because my body is made of flowers.
The night is my best friend.
If I were a flower, I'd like to be a night flower, that is;
overgrowing in my own thoughts when I'm laying alone at bed.
"I don't need you to take care of me, I can take care of myself."
The light of my phone screen is leading my way on the quiet night streets.
It's a dead hour, only owls fly and sunflowers wilt.
My feet are imprinting dusty footprints on the concrete;
always wishing rain will fall and sweep them away
like the thoughts of killing myself and how much longer until I reach happiness.
Every night I kill myself in these lonesome streets.
"I don't want to be lonely, I just like being alone."
Follow my lead, maybe we'll find the river where my soul pushed my body into last night
or the train rails I threw my heart to, only to watch it being shredded into bits of nothingness.
They don't call me flower boy for nothing.
Every night I flourish with each action and talk.
I'm still growing onto the self that my parents told me to never become.
Smile 'cause you'll forget how it's done;
Cry so you can discard every thought;
Go back to bed to continue growing.
Little flower boy with a heart made of leaves
'cause everybody leaves.
YOU ARE READING
Lighthouse
PoetryA lighthouse is your only hope in the vast ocean and you can only hope the crashing waves won't tear it apart. Poems that I wrote in order to live. Each photo that is accompanying each poem is mine, representing memories which go back years. © Alex...
