.★𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧⋆°

THE FORBIDDEN GARDEN 🥀

Seeker of secrets, death's needle did linger
Within the poisonous roses that stung the lady's finger

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In my garden where roses reside,
Some went gone, stolen in stride.
A small little theif of sorrow and venom,
Came and gone like a childlike phantom.

This land's enchantment wove its scent of bane.
Windblown drunk roses sway insane.

For in the garden of woe, roses grow folorn.
A soul coming at midnight shall never see the morn.

This could be a secret, yet i have it known,
That i wil risk lives so i don't die alone.

And she knows, yet..

She tiptoed gently on the malice ground..
Ghosty steps with not a single sound.
Till she saw me and "gasped" in fear,
Never had she ever before seen me here.

Holding her palms on a white dress stained,
Red hues have soberly sustained.
She lowered her head, her eyes cast below.
Pretending that she did not know what i already know.

Poor girl, though her sin was hidden,
Humans on this very land are forbidden!

"Forgiveness, i came from afar..
Found this land following a lonely star
I came across this hidden path..
Driven by curiosity's gentle wrath."

" Come in.. there don't you stand,
Every leaf and petal welcomes you on this land."

She dragged her dress and sins and soul
Knows she won't leaving this land a "whole"

Although at me gazing, could she really see?
That i have truely lied and she too.. lied to me.

As she trode closer, 'neath the night's dome,
On the fragrant land of sweet perfume.
Sadly she smiled, her dry lips bled
Watching "the smiling man of the tilged head"

As i leaned closer, her hand i held..
My lord! A familiar fragrance i smelled!
On her wounds i kissed right on that pose,
For this was the theif who stole my pickly rose..

blood dropping on fresh snow mortified my land,
Of The prickles of my rose that have stung her hand.

Poor girl though she was brave..
Her sin was stealing a rose to lay pale on her grave
She knew i knew, in her tears she said:
"I didn't receive flowers even when i was dead.."

She returned the rose that smelled like dread,
And realized thay the rose was already dead..

She wept and wailed, whined and bled..
Quenching my garden.. that was.. already dead..

Then she dug a hole and slept in gloom,
Poor girl, thought if planted, she'd grow and bloom.

Later the lass rose, but again she wilted
And returned to her slumber, drained and milted

For deep within the soil her body must dive
And to make use of death she sacrificed her life

She nurtured my garden of sorrow and gloom
Worms were fed and the dead began to bloom!

So why longing for roses to wilt pale on your tomb
When you may nurture the living and become it's perfume
Death is your end to be honest and to be true
Yet death upholds the living which brings life to you

Upon her blossomy tomb, i lay roses and sing,
"Depart in peace, return to nothing"

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Thank you for reading my work!

Its my first work here!

You can call me Asteria,
Your poet.

This work is written by me, i don't allow any parts of my work to be taken without permission!