Where feelings doesn’t count anymore,
Tears doesn’t mean anything,
You fall and fall again,
To be left,
Abandoned and deserted,
Where no empathy is found,
And you see yourself sinking quickly.
Hold on tightly,
To the garden filled with sweet peas flowers,
Filled with fragrance from the jasmine blooms,
The yellow orchids adding to the colors,
Bringing you close to the ginger lily plant,
The scent you seek for,
The garden, your garden,
Which never fails to lift you up,
Making you walk tall and high, yet again.Everyone has the garden,
You just have to figure out,
And find your garden, the garden,
Which you can hold on,
When you know you are starting to sink.
An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.