Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required
He was an impeccable gardener. His hands could soften when he'd manipulate the soil and the saplings. He was delicate and careful, If it was to grow something that was his. He dug holes in the soil so quietly and precisely, That nobody even saw him with the shovel. He would place a seed wherever he'd hollowed out; He'd cover it up so perfectly, You'd have never known it’d been touched. And some of the plants grew fast, They had thorns and thistles, and if I wasn't careful when I touched them, I'd bleed. Some of the plants grew slowly, but they got bigger every year. They were deceptive, and conniving. They tasted sweet— but they were poison, They were designed by mother nature to kill quietly, And without raising my suspicions until after it was too late. Sometimes, I could uproot his plants— I planted some myself, I let other people into the garden, And I let them grow their own. When he saw me tending the space he’d claimed as his, He tried to take the garden back. That’s when I understood: There was only room for his plants. I never wanted nightshade or roses. I hadn’t chosen what was growing. He was an impeccable gardener; He knew what to do to kill my plants, and what to do to protect every single one he planted. But he shouldn't be standing in my garden now. I put a fence up finally, so he couldn't water his nightshade or the roses. Still sometimes my stomach turns; Sometimes I wake in cold sweats shaking, and I wonder why it feels like I'm still being poisoned. He can't water the plants— But I wonder if he's trained me to do his gardening. What if even when nobody waters his plot— It keeps growing? What if I just can't tell nightshade from blueberries, So I keep eating the fruit? He seemed so important when I thought he was tending to my garden— But now I see he was only taking it over. I can't say I love my garden now, I can't trust anything that comes out of it— But I'm trying to make it mine again anyway. I'm sowing my own seeds now— I'm picking the colors, And I'm not going to keep my flora to myself. I want someone to see my garden and not tell me what I could have done better. I want someone to see the plants I kept alive, and the ones I killed. I want someone to say: "You did your best, and that is good enough. Even if it's only yours - that's still an improvement.” I want someone to say: “You aren't crazy, Now I know the story - And I know he just wanted you to think you are.” I want someone to say: “You're allowed to let some plants die.” He was an impeccable gardener, But he never once grew something good for us. He planted seeds and he made them grow— But they were invasive species, They were poisonous fruits, The leaves and thorns were so sharp, I couldn't handle them without bleeding. I'm starting to hack away at the foliage and the roots of the shrubs and flowers he grew, I'm covering the soil with planks of wood, So even if I miss some roots hidden deep down - They'll get no sun. I am not tending to the plants that hurt me anymore. This is my garden - His plants just grew here, And they dropped some of their seeds. He might have been an impeccable gardener; But even if I'm not - The garden I grow will be impeccable, Because it's mine. And if my plot is not tended to by someone, Who was so good at growing what hurt - Then that means even if my plants are small and weak, I can be proud to say I grew them, I can be proud of my garden.

Enter Author Name (Not Required)