Garden of Melancholy

Entrenched in a garden of despair
Thorned vines pierce into my limbs
Visions of lacerations confide
As I reside in tearful pollen
I feel dead in this bouquet
I live in a burial of soil
Am I left to die or is this a dreadful consequence
Shall entombment be the beauty of life
Suffering is all shall be
As I vision existentialism
Painful and blissful is this radiance
That’s clawing into evisceration
Rodents crawl
As skin peels from my body
That’s splintered from these vines
A gardn of grief
With petals of pain
Creats an identity similar to corpse
This garden is my entropy
A haven of my pain
A fetishistic sublime
The hurt feelings are apparent
But I become lethargic
As I endure it some more
Emptiness would never suffice
Absence of vitality obscure
I feel dead in this bouquet
I live in a burial of soil
Am I left to die or is this a dreadful consequence
Shall entombment be the beauty of life
All I feel is pain
There is nothing left
Only hurt is around
The engrain of my grief
All I feel is pain
There is nothing left
Only hurt is around
This engrain of grief
Grief
Grief
Grief
All shall be
Grief
Grief
Grief
All shall be