One more flower
has withered
in the Garden
of my life where I
dithered.
The dead flower
will turn into
manure.
I am definite
and it is for sure;
but it will be
fondly remembered
and in the Garden
of my life thus
rendered,
thus granting me
pardon
for living life
badly.
In the Garden of my
life
have I been portrayed
as it is where I live
my life
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