The Garden

A bed of thorns 
In the corner
In the mud
Is all you had for me
Yes, you did everything you could.

Against the cold, wet wall
I sat and watched you malnourished and exhausted
So worn-out!
With your back against me
You had always sunshine for the crowds

You are the one 
To whom we bow
Our Sun
“Can’t you turn towards me, please!”
You’d say: “You don’t deserve it, hon!”

Expired explanations and excuses
I shouldn’t question you
Or any of your actions
Or else more darkness, clouds, or pain
Will be your honest, true reaction

With the years I have learned to use 
The broken bits and pieces 
Of myself 
To collect the rays of light
They were my mirrors, my sunshine well

I wished I weren’t so confused
And lost, and soulless
But at your will I had to bend
You were always unimpressed
My dead garden I had to constantly defend

Your sunshine you are forcing down on me
Now radioactive and so toxic 
A ray of horrible disease 
My garden in the corner is alive in bloom, without you
And this wouldn’t give you peace

Copyright ©thescribblerinthebooth