Poems

The Gardener

"Hey... that looks familiar!"
The gardener's eyes sparkled with mirth
He must've noted my shame
I made my hand into a mask
Hiding the blemish across my face
It seems I cannot escape my past
My birth donned me with the mark
It wilted like my heart
Rain falling like tears
My attitude falling like the tulip
Splattered from ear to ear.

The gardener must be evil
To plant seeds of depression
And allow them to be nurtured
Growing until it consumes me
Like the soil it rises from
My confidence eroded
By the water it drinks

The evil gardener
He knows my mind
I am one of his lives
He urned me
He burned me
Alive
His comments snide
He makes me wish my father died
He birthed me
One of the gardener's works: me

"Like a tulip... but it fell over in the rain."
"...yeah, dad."
He strolled away to his garden
My heart began to harden
He grew snap peas and strawberries
I acquired his green thumb.
I grew hateful and enraged.

Before long, I made my choice
I would do to his life as
The brand had done to the soil
Destroy it, and use it.

I snuck into his garden
I picked one of his plants
It was in a bucket
It hung from the rooftop
Strung up on a hook
Hanging next to the window
A light blue flower
I added it to his food
The hemlock did wonders

I took over his garden
I added his decay to the soil
I grew tulips, and I grew them tall
Too tall... their stems barely support
They're too thin.
They fell over in the rain.