~*~not Your Rose~*~
Chilled and stifled, can you hear her bloodred screams?
The soil, it suffocates, she
You till with such fiendish ardor
She is in the earth, never again to be free?
You are a Procurer, indeed
A Botanist, a Gardener, a Capital Craver
Seedlings and bulbs that are worthy
With you, they simply need, to become braver!
For she is no ones prized rose
Even though your other side sees dollar signs
An American Beauty would not stand a chance
In your World, of silk ties, that bind!
Planted, fertilized and watered
Tilled and watched over with great heed
Spoiler of her very breath of life
She refuses to be part of your greed!
If she is to blossom-
If she is to totally bloom-
Then allow me this moment to prophesy to you-
Tenacity, with her, spells your doom!