Plant your seeds of misery,
In the garden in my mind.
Sew them well, my black angel,
Depression, you'll soon find.
Dying leaves, with buds of black
Thorns dripping in my blood.
Your demon mistress shoves them deep into my heart,
And laughs as i drown in mud.
This garden is over sodden,
wet with all of my tears.
This kind of damage won't heal over days...
It will take years.
Oh, black angel, you don't save me.
Instead you look past your doing.
You used this garden for it's purity,
Turned a dark princess into a ruined being.
The garden dies,
Corpses come to rot, skeletons trample flowers.
The beaty i once was - ruined -
Now something dead and fearful that cowers.
Black angel-
you turned innocence beautiful,
the beautiful, rotten.
The rotten to nothing, nothing to...
you turned seeds to flowers,
flowers, dead.
the dead to nothing, nothing to...
to me.
August 2003
