our garden was pure and then it wasn't
i thought you'd tainted it, but you hadn't.
then it became quite crystal clear
that i was the one our garden should've feared.
upon our garden i had brought a storm;
dark and ferocious, callous and evil-born,
the grim lightning struck the ground renlentlessly
and left fires everywhere- blazing unyieldingly.
when the storm had passed the damage was contained,
the lightning only left patches of ground black-stained.
as my guilt spread throughout my body perpetually,
the patches expanded throughout our garden increasingly;
like cancer, the patches multiplied rapidly,
soon there was no space for any greens.
all the flowers soon decayed and withered
until our once pure garden was left disfigured.
pretty soon our garden will die out completely
and in the ashes I'll lay and I'll be contemplating
all my regrets and decisions that led to the ultimate destruction.
hopefully our garden can undertake some needed restoration.
I'm sorry i brought my wrath upon our once pure garden.
hopefully someday you'll give me your sincere pardon.
YOU ARE READING
A Series Of Events
PoetryI've found that I am most comfortable in discomfort and chaos, as opposed to serenity and happiness; probably because this broken part of me is all I've ever known. love, turmoil, desperation, infatuation, betrayal, death. these poems will contain...
