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the greenhouse

Stainless glass
shine under the rays of sun
housing green pots of lies
blooming in cold days of winter

straining glistering eyes
doors to the greenhouse
a prison cell i fell in
yeast fermenting vines

the white lies
creep behind the door
making patterns
with cordate leaves

a friend on cold nights
covering me to sleep
vines sending me down
in a drunk deep siesta

the lies of deception
bloom purple mocking flowers
like horns to shower
on naïf starry nights

bedazzling horn flowers
embellishing my lacula inside
hitting hard and threading in
shattering thin walls of credence

the compulsive lies
rooted deep inside
big like baobab trees
lasting donkey's years - home

i wither in turn
my leaves prodding your doors
seeking warmth and companionship
in the garden of your lies

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