Picking at your skin

watching it blister and bleed under your nail bed

Squeezing the red ooze 

enjoying the warm comfort it gives

like a hug 

The hug you never received 

You carry on down the hallway with your head down 

The tremor of your bittersweet, strickenly picked, body lays still

your so egotistical the strawberry’s say 

Do you think everyone actually cares about your field? 

They only tend for their own crops 

and part of you wants to believe it, but instead you continue to pick

at the weeds

the crops

the plants

Yourself 

piece by piece 

Every little thing

but when your done  

you don't know how to farm again

how do you grow those beautiful strawberry’s back 

The seed, that sweet squirt of juice, had been picked away by your own hands

your own mind

the vast emptiness of the fields consume you 

but you still pick and pick 

Do you even know what you're picking at? 

The strawberry wonders

Do you ever want to grow strawberries again?

the strawberry wonders

But the drought has consumed the land

stricken and barren 

no strawberry in sight 

I wonder where it all went wrong?

the strawberry wonders