a waxing crescent for every beam
only to be seen in the darkest hours.
but with strands of hair that gleams,
he bloomed among the sunflowers.
how are you my very own dreams,
my teardrops from the rain shower,
and the sweetness of my cream?
it muddles me as i am devoured
by every thought that scream.
i am, of the bitter and the sour,
but my cries are stronger than any stream
flowing around my ivory tower.
will you save me from the extreme?
or leave me like a perished flower,
still waiting to be redeemed?