(no subject)

[theleastfamous]

Sprouting in your mind
From the first dawnings
Of light
Taking root in your thoughts
Twisting its tendrils
Serpent like tongues
That dance through
Your Self
Locking themselves
Into the very fiber
Of your being

All control
is forfeited
and in
The End
you wonder
what truth is and
how it sounds
Feels
Tastes

I have a garden of roses, and right now all I am experiencing are the thorns.