The wounded places within me are graveyards

Charred battlegrounds haunted by hungry ghosts

Ruins rendered rank by rot and

Rust from rough and raging storms

Earth once scarred and salted

Bleak and bleached with scorn

Brutal lands of barren waste

Which I intend to terraform.

I’ve settled my mettle in seeds of love,

Slowly and steadily sown

So the tombs now bloom with mossy green

My garden; overgrown.