inside out and incomplete

Inside out

weeds grow
along my foundation
in crowded, cluttered beds
the ones that i once minded with obsession
tugging at frustrations, unaware
hands guided by a soul
whom I had not yet met
to dig

till i was forced inside
when keeping up the facade
broke with winter ice
and falling darkness
that i build a fire inside
and so i tended once again
introduced at last
to me

and yet another façade
when winds of transformation
blew the roof off of my house
and now I sit
still deeper
inside me
peering out these windows
at this earth

the outside will reflect
the inside that i see
when these roots of mine are strong
soil replenished
from its stripping
for i know i cannot grow
in neatly ordered beds
nor can i remain inside
for wildflowers cannot grow
inside of houses

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