Days of youth spent in steady storm,
On occasion a vision of glorious sun,
But the tempest had much to accomplish,
And my blooms were seldom beautiful,
Season after season has passed,
Water has all but decayed my landscape,
I have trimmed and nourished,
Reconstructed my nature,
The flowers of my mind,
Feeding upon my soul,
Escaping this dark besieger,
Who once took pleasure,
Feasting upon my heart,
Smiling as my essence,
Red as blood,
Dripped from his sadistic smile.
