The Garden: My Soul

Constantly surrounded by weeds

weeds of doubt and depression

they slowly consumed my nourishment

for them to win is for me to lose

My life

 

My heart was a garden

desolate and bare

watered with resentment and pain

roots yearning for sunlight

flowers limp and grey

 

My roots were stronger than any weed

this would not be the end of me

 

Slowly the clouds began to move

raindrops of love nourished me

washing away the pain

feeble roots turned strong

sunlight now fed me

 

What was once dead is now teeming with life

My soil mended

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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