Forbidden

what was i thinking
when i let the flower grew in the garden?
have not i known,
how thorny the blooms would be?

no eyes will ever find beauty,
the landscape is just to radical;
not an altar to face,
nor an aisle to cross.

i looked forward for winter to come,
even pushed snow against my chest;
but my ears were too deaf to hear,
as if the garden keeps blood running through each tear.