I Was A Temple

I was a temple. A garden of life. My walls were strong and I was humanized.

I had tourists of awe who would come to see me, but they never were allowed to be too close, only to view me.

No one was to touch, only myself, kind of like an old antique on a shelf.

I had no gardner, or a cleaner attending to my needs. It was only me, that's how I liked it to be.

Sure I had cracks and of course there were missing chips, but there was no trust for someone else, not even one bit.

Then one day my view had changed as a young man came to gaze.

Other people seemed to like this man and gave him high praise.

At first he didn't want much, just to come a little closer, but he swore to never touch.

Opening up my gates for the first time, I let him in, I let him stay by my side.

We became quite close, and he gave me such high hopes.

Hope that humanity had changed, and that people could do much more than gaze.

I opened my gardens up to him next. He was gentle, and helped them grow a few more steps.

I was so sired by his kindness, that I missed all the signs, and it caused me blindness.

I was blind to the harm he truly intended, little did I know he would leave me unmended.

One unfaithful night brought his unwanted luster, leaving me enabled and flustered.

I watched as he unrooted my gardens, which only made him harden.

He robbed me blind, and gutted me out from the inside.

I am now ruins. A graveyard of pride. My walls are now shattered, for I have been victimized.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
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