Conflicting Metaphors

The cup of my life is

Brimming with ordeals;

Yet I strive and try,

For I don’t wish to

Look back and sigh.

The soil of my body is

Covered with weeds of error.

My hope named rake makes

Way for my hidden sunflowers

To bathe in the sun,

To feel empowered.

The resolved named oak

In my garden of feelings,

Feels choked by the

Indecisive ivy’s dealings.

But then comes along my

Inspiring hedge shear,

Removing poisonous regrets,

Freeing me from fear.

My life is my dearest dear,

And I’ve reached quite near

My destination, with a steady steer.

I won’t back out,

Not this year.

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