secret garden.

My head is like a secret garden;

A overgrown, forgotten about garden,

A garden where only children see when playing

Through the crack of a wall.


At first i stepped with caution,

Careful not to tread on any of the roses that led beneath my feet.

But now,

Now i run through hidden pathways

Tripping over my own feet as i go.


The roses,

As red as blood

Stand out like a pin-pricked sky,

As if like the people who’ve scarred me;

They looked so pretty but i guess i got too close

And their thorns started to show.


Although the scars that once stung are healing,

They still stand as reminder;

‘Don’t get too close,

My thorns will mangle your once smooth skin

With an arrangement of memories and cold hearts that you’ll never forget.’


I lie down

And let the garden grow over me;

I want to be forgotten too.


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