You can’t grow roses in a snowglobe,
you can’t grow anything in that
cheap confetti,
and you can’t pretend you’re outside in the sun,
and you can’t escape your regrets,
when you’re locked in a room for two months or more and
there are sounds in the walls and screams at the door and
the world is flooding and burning and worse and
you’re just sitting at home,
plinking seeds in fake earth.

Leave a Reply