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