we’ve all got gardens growing

beneath this barricade of broken bones

behind this shroud of scarred skin

stuffed inside organs

spilling out of arteries

there is a garden of wildflowers

watered by the tears I didn't cry

growing from the depths

of my undiscovered soul

housed by the greenhouse

of my abandoned lungs

there are vines overtaking my spine

I feel the itch of soil behind my eyes

and I know no one will see

the beauty within this skeleton