Analysis of Tangled Weed

All aware all refusing tangled weed that grows beneath my feet,
I am no longer estranged from myself worth all alone and incomplete,
A painted Green ledge with coins on it and a picture of your Grandmother whilst the wind blows the curtains and fresh air touches my face as a treat,
We are not yet born to this World and we keep making noises in the Street,
I have hopes which will never be accomplished as long as no one else sees what we all see in our slumbering Sleep.