Bleeding flowers bloomed in the garden of decay,
Where the soil was soaked in blood and tears,
Obscene dreams were made of darkness and despair,
Surrounded by the scent of indecent nightmares.
A storm of horror and darkness overwhelmed the garden,
A blast of fragments of fear tormented the bleeding flowers,
Under the distress of obsession and madness,
Leaving crystals to shine bright only in the dreams of delusional romantics.
Beneath the twisted branches of hollow trees, shadows danced in dread,
Laments of forgotten souls stirred the stagnant air,
The stars could not glow anymore, as phantom’s ghostly stares,
Ropes made of spider webs were woven through the madness, a night beyond decency.
In this surreal realm where nothing pure remained,
Lovers’ vows were buried deep in graves of dust and sand,
The bleeding flowers wilted, bound by cursed chains,
In a world consumed by rot and broken trust.
Some delusional hearts still dared to hope,
Being beauty still ruling in those nightmares, fleeting delusional visions,
The garden bound them in its deadly scope,
Its embrace was an eternal, cold, and empty trap.
Bleeding flowers with crimson petals and leaves,
Their thorns were long and sharp, ready to hurt those admirers of their beauty,
With their invisible grimaces, these ethereal blossoms pierced
Feeding themselves with blood and tears.
Gone desires were just doomed memories of delightful instants,
Doom and decay fed the garden of dilapidation,
A hopeless existence was the life of dead trees and bleeding flowers,
Not anymore could have been rescued from that eternal doom.
Not even wraiths, not even phantoms, were able to wander in that terrible garden,
The garden of beauty and blood where the most dreadful agony ruled supreme,
And time stroke each second like a spasm of agony.
An endless nightmare of abhorrent darkness.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
