Who is there;

Through thick fog

And cloudy glasses.

I am blind.

Taking them off means

I can’t see three feet ahead.

But putting them on 

means the same.

No visibility.

The fog I’ve walked through

Is not clear behind me 

Though it has left me 

with scars and gashes

There were always flowers

   Throughout the nails

Some flowers sprouted into nails

But maybe that was from nature over nurture.

I don’t mean to be this shade of red that drips from my arms and legs

The stain of the only color people are able to see

The shade given to me but the nails 

That makes everything I touch

Red.

It is no excuse for some of the things that I have done;

But it can explain 

the more malignant forms

My personality takes over.

I know where I’ve been and I know I can’t go back

But that does mean I don’t miss the roses and tulips.

But I have met a Sunflower,

And I hope soon the fog will subside,

And I can see her 

As more than a sunflower.

But as the seeds she drops,

The hope she gives, 

And anything that threatens the sunflower 

Will be scared of my shade

Of Red.