Dream Gardener

It never was.

It never will be.

And yet the gardeners

Are out to kill me

With some strange need

To plant him in my mind,

To choke out the other

Flowers they find.

So I set sentries

At the gates of my dreams,

But the sentries are weak;

They let seeds through the seams.

The demons water them,

The dreams come,

And dreams are something

You can't run from.

So I burn down the garden

That grows in my mind

He could only grow if

Time could rewind.

But it can't,

And I won't.

My demons want him.

I don't.