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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Experience · #1641074
a gardener of a lopsided family grieves his losses and bickers about his estrangement.
"Irrigation"



the weak side of I, sees she in omnipresence,

the bleak side of night, conspires in fluorescence,

clarity, where have you travelled to?

obscurity has taken the throne room.



as I bury the red, blue and yellow flowers,

showers of thoughts commend my mind,

retribution in cold storage,

when I try to water them, to disinfect them,

I find they have a black stem,

corroded memories have choked them,

entanglement, closure,

most displeasure, queer composure,



Standing up, I realize, the edginess,

my family is in tears,

thus i cant irrigate my flowers,

not when she cries so much,



Such strange memories,

painting my thoughts, on the walls of misery,

I'm fine but the one that I am is not,

for I have caught myself in a net of toxic canals,

thus leaves the gardening to another,

I walk away, it is a so sorrowful eve,

I cannot water my evil plants when they spit at my feet,

for they induce reflections of a lost eve,

at the lake of misery and clustered unspokenness,

fallen mirror with shattered cracks,

despair no more, fairwell lasse,

for the woman i married is a reflection of you,

and she is you, and it is all fiction's ruse.
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