A tree outside my house
Blossomed when she died.
It seemed wrong. Why should there be
Such beauty before me,
When there is such ugliness inside me?
Why should there be pretty colors,
When my world is dark and grey?
I burned down that tree,
In a drunken fit of rage,
And screamed at the world
Until the lights flashed red and blue.
After I got back, all calmed down and
Collected, I ****** on its ashes,
And passed out on the bed.
After the funeral, I looked out in my yard
And saw flowers
Budding from the ashy ground.
I see her now,
Beauty That Was Destroyed
Only to live again.
There is a garden outside my house
And in my Heart,
And it blossoms every Spring.