Work Text:
They look just like me but their roses are red
My roses are dead
No, I can’t leave my bed
and I’m stuck in my head
If I just pretend
this is my real reflection
I won’t have to change a thing
My arms are too weak to lift the bucket
So I‘ll just die here
Petal by petal
Faster if I pull roots up like weeds
I don’t have the energy to garden
My heart, it’s not hardened; it’s simply quite tired
Oh, I’m just so tired…
They reach out their hand, out through the mirror
and lift up my chin for me
I keep my eyes closed, with my tear-stained cheeks
but they don’t seem to mind a thing
I thought they’d say something sweet, like
”Someone will tend your flowers for you”
Instead, all they say
is something so lonely:
“You don’t have a gardener; you do it.
You don’t have the energy, but do it.
You’ll cry as thorns cut you; just do it.
People will help you, but you have to get started
Garden on one hour’s sleep.
Thorns cut, and you weep
Petals fall and you cry
But you’re not gonna die here. You’re gonna survive.
Garden on one hour’s sleep.”
My cheeks remain stained as the tears keep on flowing
but one day my roses will red
I’ll water with tears
and I’ll dig through the land
The soil will burn in the cracks of dry hands
But I’ll garden on one hour’s sleep