Dark Spring


When she blooms.
Oh! a stunning blooming flora, they woo.

Only to be plucked when bloomed
And be dumped when doomed.

Oh! how sweet, they blarney.
Only to suck at her honey.

They praise her petal to be a beauty.
Only to raise her to an amputee.

They smell her ambrosial.
Only to spill her moral.

They deem her delicate.
Only for them to mutilate.

She gets pained.
For what they gained.

She loses her glory.
For them to feel sorry.

Then, they demand that she be vigilant.
Even they are the ones who torment.

So, choose not to hear.
For they only bear tear.

Choose to be a flower.
And you can only cower.

You be a pitcher.
You shut them forever.

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