Withering to death
With each passing breath
In this garden of tears.
Those who surrender
Decay beneath the flowers
Those who struggle
Claw toward the light.
All things have their use.
I once saw you as a rose,
But now, as you decompose,
I begin to bloom
In the evergloom.
Forever a part of me? Perhaps.
But what feeds my roots
Will not hold me in place.