I like the slow drip,

The slicing of the thorns decorate my legs.

Little bulbs, bloom in vermillion as they run down,

And plant a new.

They caused this,

They didn’t accept me.

All we wanted was to be decorated in the rainbow.

To be unveiled under the sheath of the closet.

It’s my fault,

This blanket that fits on like a mask,

Hides the truth.

I just want to feel happy.

It’s almost impossible to become that way.

The crimson roses,

Decorate and bloom all over.

Like scars to my suffering.

My unacceptance.

Why can’t I show my true colors, of the many labels.

Why are these norms blinding and binding me.

I can’t move,

I can’t breathe.

I’m stuck in these lies.

That’s the truth behind these rough vines.

The seeds that are spreading through my bloodstream.

I need to escape,

I can’t escape.

Why can’t I go and be happy?

These flowers of hate and sorrow choke me,

Filling my lungs,

It’s unbearable.

As these feelings of mistakes.

It’s easy.

It’s easy to let it all out.

The cost, is too big to let go.

I can only hide, In this sheathed closet,

Drowning in my feers,

In my sorrow,

I'll never be accepted as my true self.

Through the bright lilac sky,

I sit in wait,

For the day I can truly live in my colors of acceptance.

But that day shall never come,

For that day is surrounded by liquor and booze of my higher-ups.

For now,

I can only be happy for the next chance I get, 

After the thorns take the vermillion milk out of my veins.