The Garden: My Soul
Constantly surrounded by weeds
weeds of doubt and depression
they slowly consumed my nourishment
for them to win is for me to lose
My life
My heart was a garden
desolate and bare
watered with resentment and pain
roots yearning for sunlight
flowers limp and grey
My roots were stronger than any weed
this would not be the end of me
Slowly the clouds began to move
raindrops of love nourished me
washing away the pain
feeble roots turned strong
sunlight now fed me
What was once dead is now teeming with life
My soil mended
This poem is about:
Me