Your Garden

My heart is overwhelmed
the sun awakes.
And lying in a grave
their lips have made
The wicked hearts live on;
Do you not hate?
Do you not hear?
But for your love, I sing
and I await
While tripping in the trap
their lies have made
Your garden is
a refuge from the snakes.

Author: thefragrancewriter

Original Blend of Perfume and Poetry View all posts by thefragrancewriter