A seed of doubt has taken root inside your yard.
It grows and grows; well-nigh to full bloom.
Around it the ground is scarred and charred,
Draining life like a child in earth's womb.
I remember days where I yearned to die,
As I stumble and stumble but never fall down.
To not be left with but my hurts and cries,
I crumble and crumble, wearing a fool's crown.
But the grinning gardener deals the cards of our fate,
All while spitting lies and hissing oaths.
Time is running out – it is almost too late,
For this seedling accepts but rapid growth.
Please take my torch and hold it high,
So the grinning gardener can see it shining so bright.
It shines through the veils, his end is nigh,
As our blazing love burns his seed to blight.
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