You grew a garden of deception,
Spun a web of lies.
Venom dripping from its leaves,
And snakes creeping just out of sight.
From afar it looked a beauty,
A place of love and desire,
But then you revealed yourself a deceiver,
So I set the garden on fire.
YOU ARE READING
Ephemeral Ink
PoesiePoetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. - Thomas Gray. A collection of all the poems that I've written.
