I've got some old flames whose heat sears
But if not for old flames I wouldn't be here
There's nothing I'd take to repeat my sins for
But if not for some sins, I might not have been born

Strange how the things that plague me
Are the same that made me
Strange how the things I regret
Are the seeds I needed

No chemical vices I choose I submit to
Might not have been advice
If not for what they'd been through
There have been people who I've let abuse me
But if not for bruises I wouldn't seek beauty

Odd how the things that seize us
Are the same that free us
Odd how the things that siege us
Are the same that teach us

There may be awkwardness
In our origins
But even awful limbs
With morbid tints
Bear cores within
One autumn wind or
Storm will rip it
From the leaves thrown
Clouds pour the swim
For seeds sown
In scores of ticks
There will be a tree grown
For a Rembrandt
To make a portrait with
An easel
Portraying gorgeousness
With ease, most remember it:
Rain waters it and reaps growth
Earth fosters it in a deep cloak
So next time you hate these zones
Please know that you need both...
Strange how the things that plague me
Are the same that made me
Strange how the things I regret
Are the seeds I needed
Odd how the things that seize us
Are the same that free us
Odd how the things that siege us
Are the same that teach us