I had a tiny seed in my palm. It meant to grow like a rose in my hand. So that I may offer a gentle kiss of beauty in this cruel, sick-twisted world. But, I think I may have drowned that voice and I might have killed the seed. I have seen more cruelty than beauty… and I have shattered like glass… so broken and so tiny.
I used to want to offer a rose. If it weren’t for the pistol, the knife, the thorns…
your one and only,
P.s. I have a show tomorrow… at a new venue! So, here is to counting our blessings! wish me luck!