Secret Garden

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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