You walk out in the quiet 

Crash the crowd though you're shy 

You, a young boy, eyes mystified 

Look astound, but cross a mile 

 

Bruised knees, no end in sight

Trembling in your shoes, you take flight

But your past lives stand in your way 

Their irked sighs cocoon you in shame 

 

You march ahead with a brave face 

You meet yourself, grown by a decade

Now you're an adult, shades of gray

Seen the world but you're in a daze 

 

Your shoulders sag under the weight 

Of what's to come, but you won't admit it 

Stoicism and disillusionment 

Build your essence, you're a man

 

You need help, but you won't admit it 

"You need help," says a woman, ruined  

A flash of fury stings your eyes

As they well up in defiance

 

Wedding bells chime, you've aged

But you'd rather live in hermitage 

Your protests are taken in jest

Because who will mend your broken pieces?

 

You love flowers but they're for your wife 

"He loved flowers?" They'll ask when you die

“You love flowers,” your wife affirms, but you feel infantilized

Slivers of adoration vanish over time

 

You seem resolute, but it's a charade 

She might walk out on you, like you did 

Glimpses of yourself in your child 

You're worried sick that he has your eyes

 

You're fifty now, your marks made 

You reach out to him, but you're too late 

The boy who dwelled inside long escaped 

You were cruel, just admit it 

 

Wisps of your grays and cosmic wisdom

Cloak your regrets, you were the victim 

And the culprit, you realize, when to you it occurred 

The more you provided, the less it mattered 

 

You abandon your pride, a foot in the grave 

All of them weep but you're on your way

A swaddled baby, you're where the flowers grow 

"Plant whatever, anything goes."