Candlelight, in a garden of sinners where she arose
Tending to the roots in bloom whose sins she knows
Blistered truths in faulty holes planted so firm
And yet she comes each day, brandishing scissors

One by one, the sinners fall, lives cut far too short
Into the waters that that have known no peace
Since the first breath that she breathed in her plight
Falling into sleep as soon as the last one swept undertow

Lost in the undergrowth beyond her time
Seeking the gardener’s unholy wings
She has found the cradle of what she needs
To survive and stray from a torture birthed endlessly

Without pleasure or fear of silence, she awaits
A special soul that grows from nothingness
Budding from the hollowness in her own
Immaculate growth from a tainted source

And in blossoming, her hopes are dashed away
As the void is filled with nothing but falling petals
The hope of a miracle in such a world of hate
Lacks the fruition of life to achieve full bloom.

Thus, she sleeps again to awake to a new day
Never realizing that the hope is her torture
To change her fate from the endless tiling
Means to change herself from the endless hoping.

© 2014