The universe used to whisper dark melodies,
in the secret garden of mind.
Seeds were sewn with thoughts that were ravenous for the wicked sound.
Each idea bloomed into insidious beauty, humming a haunting tune of its own.
When dusk set on the infinite, the ghastly chorus set too.
Silence boomed, poisoning the life of creativity.
What grew now, was gnarled indifference, a green of dark envy.
Borderline blasphemous and a challenge just the same, a tune of antithesis finally became.
The garden sang its own song in finality.
