gardens don’t grow by themselves

The airs tainted of lost and loathing 
as the golden sun comes up 
She’s still trying to find herself
but she can’t seem to get out 

She’s locked in a cage of her own doing
but she’s lost the key somehow 
The world’s a bit blurry now as it continues to let her down 
She can’t seem to find a reason to dig 
if it’s just gonna get pulled out 

She hates sleep 
She loves sleep

She’s in a war with her own mind 
and I don’t think it’s ending soon
She used to dream in black and white but now the colors have gotten trapped in 
The road not taken will hopefully stay that way

Her garden is full but void and she’s applauded anyway 
If you would look you’d see the ember light is gone 
But you’d rather not implore than ask her “Why so languor”
Don’t be fooled, she’s only been inured to the dull taste of life 

Her garden’s suffered the damage so the beetles could run free
With the routine implanted, shes turned to machine 
And the beetles still run back for more.
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