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The Garden of Death
There grew in a garden,
White flowers pale as death,
That grew in rows like tombstones,
Their odor; foul like dragons breath.
Flowers bent and brittle,
Stems with many a thorn,
No sweet fragrance, just a stench,
Their existence was one to mourn.
These deadly flowers spread,
The world was its domain,
Its roots had leeched all over,
And no other life could remain.
Only these flowers grew,
The earth’s soil was rotten,
This decay consumed all life.
Its plague could not be forgotten.
When it spread its poison,
Life on earth was finished,
All life had become extinct,
The whole world had been diminished.
Even though its fiction,
All this could become true,
These flowers merely symbols,
Of hate that could live within you.
Evil spreads so quickly,
To hearts that are hollow,
People want the easy life,
A route that’s easy to follow.
Evil tries to tempt you,
Disguised as a flower,
Don’t be tricked by its beauty,
Or you’ll fall under its power.
Take control of your life,
Don’t let your heart harden,
Or you’ll become this flower,
A spawn of this deadly garden.
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