The Garden’s Storm

She takes something so minuscule and makes it extreme,

Now, her disorder strikes randomly.

The receptacle's remarks never get old,

How do you forgive when her life cycle is constantly told? 

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Photosynthesis slowly stunts its work,

This flower cannot even confront the hurt,

The one where her daughter dehydrates the poor seed,

Even though Borderline Seed's paranoia had shone through the valley's streets.

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A clear, sunny day,

One where the Seed's claims dimmed the way,

And turned the sky cloudy and gray,

She could easily destroy the sun and its lively haste:

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This garden slowly dies,

As the sunlight cannot fuel their insides,

Dahlia's personality ingests the wake,

And makes these yellow flowers limp and hate. 

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No bible quote can protect her,

God can choke the life out of her,

He can make the sky ebony and rainy,

The droplets scold her coldness and inferiority.

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The thunder and lightning ruin her grounds,

The one where these Bleeding Hearts convulse like Greyhounds.

Rubberweeds' are so putrid, they make one purge,

Powerful winds ignite the courage that awakens the hearse. 

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The hurricane's eye saves those ready to leave,

The inside is blissful and loving, 

So intently, that one would not think it stays,

And offers support to flowers that are strays. 

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Suddenly, the sea floods the land,

I run as quickly as I can,

The drowned flowers beg like lambs,

The hurricane's eye offers me its hand. 

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A clear, sunny day,

One where the Seed's play washes out the vase,

And turns the sky cloudy and gray,

The Seed fears her graze. 

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The cows stare contently,

As they eat their grass hazily.

Even they know the drill,

Yet, follow her yodels to the grill. 

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These companions worship the rainbows and the bees, 

As their departure is the only thing that promotes the lifeless Ash trees' bleach,

The atmosphere's gale no longer pushes these people to move,

These children no longer dance while hearing the same tune.

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Black Dahlia is now alone and traps her tricks,

Nothing is left to artifice,

The once, bright leaves have discolored and greyed, 

The land is now abandoned and misplayed. 

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These valley's streets now cry and wait for the daisy's return,

But the Moon warns her little Luna that these flowers will ruin her, 

Now, the Black Dahlia is doomed as the typhoon floods the venue,

And as her daughter follows the moon.