My Garden My garden used to be an overgrown jungle for me to explore. Now it's just a mess that I deplore. The trees that encapsulated my garden were my climbing frame. Now when I look upon the disarray I am just filled with shame. The grass was like a savanna; it was as tall as my head. Now it's such an eyesore it fills me with dread. Imagination created my own personal palace. Now all I see is a monstrosity that makes me feel callous.
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