EMRY GHILL

I’ve seen fishes swimming through my flows leading me to rivers I didn’t want to know, I’ve seen daisies that I’ve helped to grow and Every one was laced with hidden  thorns below. Life’s a garden where the roses can die slow, they can die slow, we can die slow. We still long for the bloom coming right after the blow, right after the blow comes the time to grow. I’ve walked on paths where the shadows loom, chasing sunlight but it didn’t even break through. I’ve felt the rain wash me to the roots leaving me breathless with nothing but the truth. Life’s a garden where the roses can die slow, they can die slow, we can die slow. We still long for the bloom coming right after the blow, right after the blow comes the time to grow.. Maybe thorns make the flowers sweet. Maybe scars make the soul complete. I’ve sang with pain sweeping off my feet. Is it the struggle that’ll make the the outcome neat? Life’s a garden where the roses can die slow, they can die slow, we can die slow. We still long for the bloom coming right after the blow, right after the blow comes the time to grow. I’ve bled for beauty and I’ve hurt for the show. Hurting for the show is why I had to grow. (Emry)