State of my own mistakes

Does the rain still look the same on your face? What did the rulers of your mind choose to not erase? Because you still got me the same lonely flowers, I counted colorless petals for hours. I still don't know what whispers made your eyes wander, I confess the reason for my talent is my fear being under, a foreign spell. Which could take away my other reasons to not escape, and lose everything till I'm the notable mistake in the landscape For words in hidden diaries no one will ever read, I pile my heart out on the floor, useless and emptied. Every time I see a clover or a lash on my cheek, I continue to wish for a situation I fear and seek. What my hopes are endlessly trying to translate, is that the dreamer in me won't find a way out this state.