Enchanted Garden...
Once upon a time,
She wrote of the
Enchanted Garden.
Its soul darker than coal,
Birds and beast strange and bold,
It sang to the insane, To enter its dark realms.
And feel the ecstasy of passions high.
Snails,Beatles,crickets,spiders creeping around,
When you crossed the devious crow,
Cawing and cursing your being.
Your dark soul binds with blood,
A story penned, a curse nursed.
I was no Alice nor did I have any malice,
To experience this unlimited pain,
I soon found my body,
Consumed by an ethereal being.
Soft was his hand, hungry was his soul,
Blood in his eyes,
Death in his love.
Cutting deep in my veins,
He dipped his broken pen,
And wrote his life's journey.
A poet was he, born of human indulgence.
Lost in the forest he had met his destiny.
Enchanted garden enticed his senses,
The Queen of Death had sensed his desires.
His pains, her bosom, His cries, her intoxication.
Soon he was one of them.
He longed for his verse,
His muse, his curse.
Now crippled in his arms,
She sang his favorite song.
Hear O hear!
The charms of enchanted garden,
A poet and his beloved.
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