Brought into the world from your seed
I reside in the ground of your garden pristine
Well kept, designed to a tee as if my perfection was a need
You, the gardener arrives, my keeper, my life giving queen
You move through me to snip and to prune
Your haunting hand holds my petal
A slip of the wrist, and you bleed all too soon
I watch as you scoff and you leave for the fall
What was I to do, made of thorns, repulsive blades, that I didn’t choose
I’m lost and lonely, a lowly disgrace
The ruthless game-maker decided I was to lose
Brought and left by myself, with an eternity to face
As I sit in my place, crumpled and browned
Your once wonderful garden fallen to ruin
I wish that you hadn’t restrained me to the ground
My time has come, I feel the cold air creep in
The winter arrives, as do you my sorrowful queen
Although I am shriveled you still plead
You want to, but can’t bring back my bright red sheen
I hope you move on, and one day, return with your next perfect seed
About the Creator
CgtWriting
Not entirely sure what I write about at the moment, but that doesn't stop me from pouring my all into every piece.
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