A bouquet of wild flowers flourishing in the sun
Their petals long as a summer dress
Sweet as a bee hive in the mist of spring
Perfect as the thoughts of a genus
The thousand in awe of spectacle
It grew up to be what it was suposed to
The flowers have wilted
Its roots wrapped around the perfect flowers choking it
The summer dress now ripped
The beehive spayed and destroyed
The thoughts of genus swerl and mix into the syrup of insanity
It sits on the shelf, alone
Yet to be removed
Not because it is beautiful
But because its a waste
Why bother to end the suffering?
Why satisfy the need for life?
Its just a weed in a glass bottle

© Qwill Smith