wild roses

scattered, obliviate, forgotten. primroses, daffodils, creepers, vines, wall flowers, decaying: acid burns, sure makes an impression on cold cement unfeeling. i see those memories, left behind, my wall flowers, creepers - hush don't speak now! it is apparent, it is nature, it is as it should be, hush, don't cry now. when wild roses sing in the wind, don't feel, don't forge an identity not yours, unaware, unaware, forget. i see tendrils, like smoke, make pictures, more than words - cuts the soul, the heart when lyrics have become common place, another sigh, another shrug, another what can i say? don't say anything primroses, daffodils, dedicated to living - like wild roses i can smell your perfume, your scent, even if no one else can. die hard, die in acid, leaving memories, on walls. wall creepers no more, we see you. wild roses hanging by a thread, you did no wrong, weep not at the setting sun, cold winds turning you into frost, white, black, nothing. i hear you, i feel ... ... roots burrowing deep in earth, no one sees roots, just what you represent - bloom, bloom for me. they cry, it must be exhausting - i want you, wild rose roots and all. roots most of all, ugly, plain, not to be differentiated with any other common labels - because wild is the tempo, wild is the beat, wild was your giving it all to a world that only scrapped at surface blues. i love you, do you believe me?