Gardener

The man with the scythe asks,                                                                                              'How will your garden grow?'                                                                                                        He cuts down your flowers, butchering them slowly.                                                                  One by one.                                                                                                                         Cut, slice, chop, die.                                                                                                           They have names:                                                                                                            Gaza, Ukraine, Iraq, Afghan and more not yet known.                                                      Except to him.                                                                                                                      He who reaps, butcher of us all.                                                                                                      He harvests his garden of us, his pawns.                                                                                            Tell me, how does your garden grow?