Gardens

I like to think that gardens grow inside people.

Most of their minds are full of beautiful roses that
have had their thorns cut off and their lungs are filled
with daisy chains allowing them to breathe freely.

Their rib cage is filled with sunflowers
supplying their heart with endless happiness.

Sometimes though, when they don't notice that
I'm looking I can see their smile wavering and
sense that the sunflowers are slowly dying within
them and that the roses have long since
overgrown into a tangled mess.

I can almost see the thorns of unwanted thoughts gradually growing
back and the pain getting trapped between the daisy-chains in their
lungs slowly suffocating them until they are gasping for air,
silently calling out for anyone to help them.

I watch them and I know that the garden inside of
them is rotting leaving death in their bones making
it difficult to get out of bed in the mornings.

I notice this because my garden is also dying one by one:

Firstly, my roses,
Secondly, my sunflowers
Thirdly, my daisies
until I can barely breathe anymore.

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