My secret garden is no longer dead

The grass is green roses red

The darkness no longer crawls through my veins

Breath no longer clawing up my lungs

Feeling content, relaxed
Almost

Problems come, the monsters accompany.

They rest on my shoulders, whispering sins into my ear.

Despite destroying everything they touch, I let them roam.

They cause earthquakes and floods, my friends can not stand the disasters.

Each time they knock at the door, it gets harder to decline.

They leave occasionally, letting me relax.

I no longer rely on people to control my life.

The right path still lies ahead.

So I'll pick up my weapons, prepare for the dread.