I’m a Gardener

My fucking fault that the garden didn’t thrive,
My fucking fault that the flowers died.
I left that garden, I walked out,
It need attention and care,
Care I could never give it.
It was barren and cold,
But I helped it grow, never flowers,
Yet now bushes of emerald grow.
A garden has to do some of the work,
A gardener can never create,
From thin air, from nothing.
Without the aid the garden gives,
Without the seeds and buds,
The garden cannot grow.
My fucking fault the gardens dying,
But it’s also my fault the garden is growing.
It also my fault the garden is trying to grow,
It is also my fault that the garden is changing.
The trees grow taller and the apples fall onto the lawn,
Once fallen they turn rotten,
They never can be eaten, they’re as bitter,
As bitter as the rest of the garden,
As bitter as the gardener who left,
As bitter as the death that gardener faced that very same day.

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