Belle

Marigold blues strike again,
In thorny wrath of natural pain.
Pushing and pruning against my skin,
They feel for something to attain.

But my eyes reluctantly refuse,
To let that sorrow find its mark.
Ive thought of a far better use,
For what seems so evil and stark.

So I rush about frantic and afraid,
To find my thoughts and I alone.
Remainders of the soulful price paid,
Help to kill my heart's weeds ingrown.

Will i ever find a day of brilliant spring;
A day without this constant threat of fear.
A day when love and happiness make a living,
And Im finally somewhere far from here.