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death is a garden,
and we are the seeds that bloom.
we are the seeds that get buried
deep
down
in the very soil we walk on.
life is the soil,
and we are the weeds that consume.
we are the weeds that feast upon nutrients meant for prettier beings,
for if we are the weeds that cover
and the seeds that grow,
then life is most certainly the soil
from which our roots spring,
and death is the glowing sign reading
"ENTER",
and hanging over
everything.
- ch
YOU ARE READING
carpe diem
Puisibrought to you from the far corners, shallow pools, and desperate depths of my mind complete
