The Sunken Garden

Beneath the surface of my smile,
There lies a garden, sunken, vile,
Where flowers once bloomed with vibrant hue,
Now wither under skies of blue.

The paths, once neat, lie overgrown,
With weeds of doubt so thickly sown,
Their tendrils wrap around my heart,
And tear my fragile world apart.

The fountain at the garden’s core,
Once bubbling joy, now flows no more,
Its waters stagnant, dark, and deep,
Where motivation lies asleep.

Roses, once red with passion’s fire,
Now hang their heads in mute desire,
Their petals fall like silent tears,
Marking the passage of joyless years.

The arbor where sweet dreams took flight,
Now stands empty in endless night,
Its timbers rotting, hope decayed,
Where happiness once gently swayed.

Benches meant for quiet reflection,
Now bear the weight of introspection,
Too heavy for their weathered frames,
As I sit, lost in bleak refrains.

The sundial casts no shadow here,
In this place where time’s unclear,
Days blend into nights so long,
As I hum depression’s somber song.

Yet in this garden, sunk so low,
A single seedling starts to grow,
Defiant in the barren land,
It reaches up with tender hand.

Perhaps with care, with time and toil,
This plant might purify the soil,
And spread its roots throughout this space,
Restoring life with gentle grace.

For even in the darkest earth,
There’s potential for rebirth,
If only I can find the strength,
To tend this garden at arm’s length.

So I’ll nurture this fragile shoot,
And hope that someday it takes root,
In this sunken garden of my soul,
Where being broken can make me whole.

To those whose gardens too have sunk,
Beneath the weight of thoughts so drunk,
On sadness, fear, and loneliness,
Know that your soil still can bless.

For in the depths of earth’s embrace,
There’s always hope for a greener place,
Where flowers of the heart can bloom,
And life can conquer inner gloom.