Gardening my abyss with mirrored thoughts
Aligned perfectly to the northernmost pole
Cold breeze sweeps the face clean, hair upright
‘Come back to reality, you don’t seem alright’.
The basics of gardening
They are here once again to judge my intuition
Contoured, barely alive with a faux resilience
An ally with the foes, but an enemy to myself
Hypnotized by pride? It’s unsavory to myself.
Lethal weapon of love is undermining my pride
It is gazing into a carousel in my introspection
Maybe I should let cruelty rule over humility
Or maybe I should engrave myself in my abyss.