Where Strange Blooms Grow

Where Strange Blooms Grow

There is a garden
no map has ever found,
where flowers whisper secrets
from underneath the ground.

The petals grow in scarlet,
with shadows painted black,
and once you walk among them
there is no turning back.

The leaves are far too green there,
they shimmer when they breathe,
and something without footsteps
keeps moving underneath.

The purple sky keeps swirling
like paint that lost its way,
while flowers turn their faces
from night into the day.

One bloom began to tremble
as though it knew my name,
another bent towards me
and whispered I was strange.

I asked them what they wanted,
they opened one by one,
their black and crimson petals
were reaching for the sun.

No bees had ever found them,
no butterfly came near,
yet every strange red flower
grew stronger from my fear.

I should have left that garden,
I should have walked away,
but madness can be beautiful
when colours beg you stay.

So now I sit among them,
where ordinary ends,
talking to the flowers
as though they are my friends.

And if you ever find me
where purple rivers flow,
don’t try to bring me home again…

I’ve found the only garden
where strange blooms grow.