From Eden’s Garden

Whoever may judge me, judge not harshly,
nor without reserve.
These frozen lips, though not yet cold,
held captive by whom they serve.
For since paradise I lost, replaced by wintry scene,
‘tis you, my love I cling to,
with all your summer’s green.

You, the shackles gripping me together,
binding each part to memories that once made a soul,
glass shards, reflecting and sharp
cutting the threads with which I survive,
tearing what was never whole.
And by this I am your captive
as the insane are lost inside dark caverns of the mind.

But with these shards I shall not part,
think me selfish not,
for ‘tis neither with strength nor heart
that this I bury, though never dead.
And wherever it may come to rest,
with little harm, this I hope,
but if these veins must rust,
may it someday turn to gold.

A/N: ya..another creative assignment. had to pick a poem and write your own poem "imitating" the original in some way. I chose The Funeral by John Donne. its pretty much amazing so if you haven't read it id suggest you do.