The roses are wilting,
The lilacs are dying.
The soil has been starved of thirst
As the sun's heat boils
The dead flowers.
This lush garden
Is fading
Into a blazing desert.
The roots are pleading in vain:
"Why do you not water me?"
The flowers last breath:
"Why do you not love me?"
This game of
"I love me, I love me not"
Has ended with too many nots.
The roses are wilting,
The lilacs are dying.
And the garden of self love
Has fallen.
