Canvas hands

Growing orchids in every melancholic garden, 

While getting thorns in return, 

The broken pavements of my adorned smile, 

Leads to the haunted house you'd always ignore.... 

Oh mirror tell me about those canvas hands, 

How did they become tissues now? 

What happened to your rose blushy cheeks? 

Why did they become windows on a rainy night? 

I'm a paper boat in the ocean of heartache, 

Stuck in the spectrum from "fighting to survive" 

To "sinking in the depths of night", 

Hoping a raven would lead me to the shore.... 

I'd explain you a universe, 

But what's the point of it? 

When all you wanna know is a box, 

Where'd all my words fit?