Keeper

and i dont have time to finish this but i need to let it out

how loud are a ghost's whispers, will I hear you shout?

the pesky thought of you getting frail holds my mind prisoner

the mom becomes the child, and I'm now your keeper

no one has prepared me for this and i guess no one really can

and even if they could and even if they did i don't know if i'd plan

a plan would feel so concrete a surrender to the wilting

you'll always be my blossoming flower, even when the world is tilting.

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I don't know how to deal with this...