I am a Dying Garden
I walk alone in the Dead Gardens feeling the chilly mist- fight below my skin why did you abandon me here- in a shallow grave of our past? now we will never heal instead we will drift on a ancient boat waiting to be swallowed by a merciless whirlpool I'm walking the sand, hoping it won't eat me whole you set a invisable tar pit trap- why won't you let me out? I am a dying rose that rests in my hand you had to shred the last petal throwing red-brown confetti in my eyes but you pick an alive rose golden with silver thornes- and feed it to the vultures circaling with their schreeching heads cut off but you can only advert your eyes you've tarnished my gold turning it brown and dull and you had to break the sky just to show that you dont care try as you may you can not turn me blind Written January 9th, 2002 © on Jan 09 2002 01:54 PM PST 0 • 1
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"I walk alone ..."