"When you put that detrimental piece of metal across your skin,
you plant little seeds as if you were digging holes on a patch of land.
When the cut begins to heal, the plant begins to grow.
Soon enough you’re a beautiful field full of flowers of all sorts.
The red Roses that was planted when you wanted to see blood,
The white Dandelions when you were wishful but nothing happened as you wanted it to,
The pink Azaleas that show the love you wish you could feel.
Soon this garden will come to an end,
There will be no source to keep these flowers alive.
They relied on your pain and the wounds they grew from.
You will be a garden of blossoms no more,
and beyond what you have ever been before.
No more gashes on your arms,
No more tears that plant the seeds,
Just closed up scars that lay there,
And that will be the only time I will ever love a flowerless garden."