The walls could hear
The roses bloom
As pitchforks flow
From their magenta wombs
And the air would creak
As you try to grow
Cracked scriptures
Atop your musty roof
You will never know
Oh, how it loves you.
For this is destiny
Dry mouthed and screaming
It will hit you like a ton of vapor
Upon the soul or nestled along your cheek
You will realize
You cannot grow where willpower will not tread.
 
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