Years of tending a girl to be fit
for a world of defeat. To wear her pride
like a bag full of mysteries
not ready to be revealed
until the day of vows and rings
a night to say goodbye to freedom.
Tears are an umbrella which covers
the shadows of her sight.
This man has bought a free ticket
to a wrestling match. mother sold it.
The world forced it.
with words that can bend a heart
to desire the colour of graves.
If only I could hide my wrinkles
under the sun and knit lies around her.
no one will know the battles I fight
The bruises of bare words are weapons
he used to dissect his petal,
after every breaking day.
The last supper he served was an
expectation from the globe,
a trend that will never die.
what completes a grand occasion?
without a mix of emotion
which no magician can foretell.
wealth was her family’s enemy.
she never came close,
always staring from afar,
glaring into their hungry eyes.
These flowers you pluck & poke
are burdens in the heart of a Gardner;
A prayer from Mr perfect to God’s ears,
willing to tend & water a beautiful garden.
These flowers you pluck & destroy
are solutions to the world’s chaos;
a bunch of grace & a fragrance of beauty,
born to chase weevils from the phase of earth.