Flower Child

If it's what we think, we become
could I plant the seeds of beauty inside my skull?
I could wait for the first sprigs to sprout
and the roots to gouge out my eyes
because beauty is in the eye of the beholder
and I don't think I can be
that anymore.
But god, if the velvet petals inside
grew brighter,
then maybe I could feel their vibrance.
I could be an entire field of tiger lillies for you.
It seems silly to not know your favorite flower.
I could sprout daffodiles from my finger tips
and for once,
everything I touch would be divine.

I got a tattoo on my tree limb arms
with two names
but I don't know how to erase one
because I can't love me anymore.
Do I wait for the scar to fade
or do I let chainsaw blades saw off
what has no use?

Three days ago,
I swallowed a handful of earth and countless roots
hoping that maybe a forest would make it's home inside.
I hope I am accommodating.

Today, I caught a butterfly
and tried to hold it close.
It doesn't like being here.
I know why.

If it's what we think, we become
could I plant the seeds of prepossessing painted daisies deep inside my bones
so that maybe one day
I could grow beautiful too.