Weeds

Leaflet in my garden
How verdant you are
My voiceless temper sees you
"Should I leave it or shall I live
In harmony with the vexing vine?"

You seep underneath my skin
Live with the trees of fruit
Strangling all evidence
With your clever arms
Taking away my efforts

Leaflet of my distemper
I don't want to weed you
But I beseech you
To dry with the drought
To remain in death with the rain
And the garden retakes itself
And the vermin weeds verdant no longer
Mingling, mangling

Anymore

Anymore



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