November 7, 2010
Walking in the forest, was I.
Following the signs that led me by.
When, alas,
it happened so fast.
I stumbled upon the Forbidden Garden.
I had to go in.
The gates opened with a hatch.
It pulled me in; I didn't look back.
Blinded by shimmering marigolds.
Their age, I couldn't tell how old.
A land of perfection, where no one died on,
sprouted an ocean of dandelions.
Upon every hour,
batches multiply by 2's and by 3's of wildwood flowers.
The taste of the air was sweet, yet sour,
that gave the color to the sunflowers.
And now,
a patch of land, I shall plow.
Which shall I plant hope in, so faithfully?
The Blue Rose,
or My Exotic Daisy?
Each so hard to get
like the swaying violets.
As unpredictable as the lilac tulips.
My heart stops when my name falls off their lips.
Conflicted, as much as I could,
seeking advice from the dogwoods.
Playing a game of "He loves me, He loves me not"
on the petals of forget-me-nots.
I remain one with the daffodils.
What's that, over the hill?
A melody from the silverbells,
I followed along a path of cockleshells.
A harmony in the distance,
I follow with no resistance.
Where I'm going, no one can tell.
I am just... depetaled.

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