Garden Mine
To smell the fresh bloomed flower
within this tangled mess
of what was once a garden lush
thriving on happiness
I'd have to chop through brambles deep
that reach out to snarl and scratch
Crawl over dry weeds and choking vines
to reveal a life detached
Is it worth the emotion and pain
to witness the scent of beauty
Should I not stay within my capsuled world
where "artificial" rules absolutely
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