Birthstones In the Garden

Serene turns to bloody
lullaby whipped to scream.
If you've ever watched your mother die,
you'll know exactly what I mean.

Good times are soon forgotten
friends just drift away
death roosts in the brain forever
I guess we're born that way.

Who is this diadem 
that gives, then steals away
puts birthstones in our garden
then swiftly cuts it all away.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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