Fragile is the Garden of the Mind

[James]

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…