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				Feb 10th, 2003, 11:53 PM
			
			
			
		
			
			       
				Fragile is the Garden of the Mind 
 First off; yes, this is a very "whiny goth kids" poem. It's supposed to be written through the eyes of a character in a story I've been working on for a few years now. Constructive criticism welcome.
 Fragile is the Garden of the Mind
 by James Light
 
 O, see the long-dead roses,
 Watch them crumble
 To dust,
 To dust…
 T’will it be nothing but a dream,
 When I see the sun?
 Or is the sun a fire, which scolds my heart?
 The fire that burns the long-dead roses,
 Watch how they crumble
 To dust,
 To dust…
 The life, once vibrant,
 Once full, once basking in the sun,
 Once swaying to the gentle breeze,
 Now nothing more than memories
 Only I have
 The long-dead roses lose all they knew
 Watch as they crumble
 To dust,
 To dust…
 Then is comes to me,
 Like a sword striking my very soul
 To know the answer
 To know the long-dead roses still live
 To know a way to hold them,
 In my heart,
 To live
 To bask in the sun
 To sway in the gentle breeze
 But, it is too late now
 As I see the long-dead roses,
 And now they crumble
 To dust,
 To dust…
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