First draft.*


My mind is a garden
Overgrown.
Flowers give way to weeds.
I used to enter to relax,  

Now I leave it to.
My mind is a government
Overthrown.
Chaos reigns; more injustice

Now, in the wake of anarchy,
Than prior to revolution.
My mind is a page of my person
Overturned.

I change. Gardens become
Woods. Cities pastures.
Poets dead people.  
My mind is a garden
Overgrown.