The Gardener

Tufts of grass shoot out between the cracks in the patio;
little green goblins!
Oh how I wish I could rid my garden of you.
I would pluck and pluck
until my fists turned green
but what's the use?
The more I hack away at you
the thicker you grow back.
It exhausts me to watch you grow stronger than I am.
Your weeds shackle me down
and consume what is left of me
me; the gardener of this kingdom
usurped by the thing I can't control.