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Secret Garden

By
Beneath the thorns
That press against my bleeding heart
Whose tangling vines block out blue sky

Some flower lies
Its fragrance more inticing
Than any sweet poison

Such a flower
That only the moon-struck tend
That no one but the lonely refuse

So we are all half-witted
We who tend this garden
And sip the nectar of sweet poison

Whose thorns press against bleeding hearts
And tangling vines block out blue sky
In a garden tended by fools





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