People Are Not Gardens by Mike Williams 01/29/2016 @ 1:10 A.M.
Neglected through the years.
I cleaned it out and replanted,
With blood, strife, and tears.
I mended its shabby walls,
And pruned its prickly vines.
Tending it with deepest love,
I planted flowers in its lines.
I visited it every day,
And saw to all its needs.
But hidden beneath its surface,
Sprung up deeply rooted weeds.
Though I tried to pull them,
Some simply would not give.
Over time they grew vast,
Choaking flowers that had lived.
The roots grew thick and forceful,
And broke outside of its bounds.
All of my work went to waste,
Making a mess of what I found.
I left it a little disheartened,
My fingers bare to the bone.
Some people are not gardens,
And better off completely left alone.
© Mike Williams