I have gardens in my heart,
Wilted roses in my soul,
And little shattered pieces,
Proving I'm not whole.
But if I showed you my flowers,
Would you be my rain and sun?
Or cut all my stems,
And leave me crying when you're done?
Too many people have tried,
To pick up each broken part,
But end up making their own mess,
To leave a stain on my heart.
So will you be the one,
To evaporate this fear,
Or pick all my petals,
And leave my roses bare?