Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Oh, you flowers.

I'm sitting on this patio, with nothing more than a glass of lemonade
and friends from a glass house.
All of them have grown together
in a sort of orphanage with parents.
They've not been left without water,
because otherwise they'd be dead.
And I'd be sitting on this patio with nothing but my schizophrenia and a glass of lemonade.

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