when the tulip falls dry
and the sky is painted black,
don’t leave what you thought you knew,
don’t leave what you felt was true.
part of me has crumbled,
but my stems are still strong.
When my weakness becomes your worry,
your worry becomes mine,
and the cage I thought was far gone,
returns, and without a key
where freedom is not without plea
where dignity now comes with a fee
and in the cage is only me.







