I am a garden

And I am the gardener

I have thorns on my heart

Thistle in my eyes

I'm truly a work of art

With feet made of vines

I'm quite an overgrown garden

One I'm still trying to mend

Plagued by people I haven't forgotten

And haunting dreams never to end

Vines that tie me to the floor

Take part in breaking me

Until I'm just something I endure

For I hate myself for my ugly weeds

And until I learn to accept my flaws

No matter how unflattering they may be,

I can never plant a seed

                               Of love

It would be a hypocrisy

I can't give something I don't already own

And love, especially for myself

Is something I haven't grown

You keep telling me the problem is my weeds

But my flaws are a part of me

And with your implorations you're not letting me breathe

You're a vine tied to my ankle, making me wish to be free

You've degraded me, told me of your better  plans and aspirations,

And I followed and grew into them due to my desperation

But I didn't grow into perfection, I grew into desolation

So I take a stand today

Starting with something I have to say

That is, I need to learn to accept my weeds

And my garden is where I should plant my seed

So until that is done,

I'm just a garden

With thorns on my heart

Just thistle in my eyes,

Just a work of art, 

Who is saying, 

                                    Goodbye.