You made flowers beautiful again.

The colors of the flowers irritated me

They represented the desperation for survival

Desperate to pass on their genes

Desperate to be pollinated

Their shapes didn’t help their case

Reproductive organs molded for others

Changing to match their pollinating suiters

Fragile to the touch,

Their savior complex is severe

‘I am a fair maiden please come help me’

My only consolation were the apathetic worker bees

But with the flower you gave me

You made the colors seep into my heart

It put me in my place

It put me at ease

You shaped your life the way you wished

Affect by others

but keeping your own shape

You were fragile yet strong

You did not bend or break

Even as the bruises grew underneath your skin

But the sod has lost its color again and is as monotone as it can be

I loathe the gardener who picked you as soon as you bloomed

Not pick, but yanked, tore, and cut down like a weed