My Heart Is But a Garden
My Heart Is But A Garden
My heart is but a garden
where the seeds of anguish grow.
All of my life I've harvested the pain.
The seeds are all the hurtful words
which have been planted there.
My tears, which fall in showers, are the rain.
With diligence the gardeners
work steady at their chore.
In soil deep they plant their seeds of woe.
My garden grows more plentiful
with each season passing by
and I sadly reap the bounty that they sow.
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