Like A Garden

My mind is like a garden. If you go down deep enough there's nothing but dirt and a solid abyss of immovable rock, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth growing some pretty flowers above the earth while I'm there too. Just like breeds of flowers, they are ancient and ineffectual as the hills and still they have their season in which to scatter them with the color, smoothness and vibrancy of petals, each one trembling with early morning dew and the risen beams of the new dawn.

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