Flower flower, on your stem,
Do you not worry less and less,
What you’ll be, like one of them?

Flower flower, in the wind,
Take my heart, take me in.
I’ve wanted nothing else since.

Flower flower, how you bloom!
You shine so brightly just to be in a room.
Time controls when fate is too soon.

Flower flower, where do you live?
You’re stolen of pedals and yet you still live,
Hoping there’s more you can happily give.

Flower flower, in the grass,
Are you not crying, are you not sad?
I’m already used to it with all I’ve had.

Flower flower, show me your face,
I want to be you, I want to have grace.
So I will always have the words to say.

Flower flower, please open up,
Show us your pedals, show us your love.
There’s no reason why you shouldn’t reach for the sun.

Flower flower, hold your ground,
Don’t be alarmed when you hear the sound,
Of others mocking and playing around.

Flower flower, release your scent,
Let us know you and no longer guess,
Of your colors, shape, or past.

Flower flower, tell me your fears.
I will listen to you whenever you’re near,
And hear your voice when you fail to endear.

Flower flower, show me how.
Do they not hurt, do they not gouge?
You were tried and forsaken, yet you make no sound.

Flower flower, hear my cry.
You’ve heard so many others so why not mine?
Seems all there is to do in life is die.

Flower flower, I beg you, don’t fade.
Choose to keep on, choose to stay.
Before the wolves devour my last words I’ve always wanted to say.

Flower flower, forgive my actions.
I faded away along with the ashes,
Holding the fire, holding the rashes.

Flower flower, I can explain.
I’m so desperate to say what I’ve always to say,
Waiting for that one miraculous day.

Flower flower, I made a mistake.
I know I’ll remember it all the way to my grave.
I’ve told you nothing, so don’t bother saying what you’ll say.

Flower flower, it’s not your fault.
You were never aware of this pain as I walked through the halls.
I kept my head held high, kept my shoulders tall.

Flower flower, where will you be,
When I’m buried and no longer can see?
Guess you were the person and I was the deed.

As I was walking through the endless gardens, smelling each flower as I often would, I came across a flower sweeter than any I had ever smelled. The flower was delicate, and the whitest of whites, and as I smelled it, it called to me to be picked. I wanted the flower, and the flower wanted me, so I picked the flower and brought it home with me. The flower made me happy, and I made the flower happy. I watered it each day and did all that I could to take care of the flower. But each day, I saw the flower wilt. More and more each day the flower wilted. And I tried to ask the flower what was wrong, but the flower was happy and refused to tell me. Looking back, deep in my heart, I knew what was wrong, but I selfishly couldn't believe it. And I believe that deep down the flower knew what was wrong, but was too happy to accept it. So one day, as I brought the flower with me on a walk, I planted it into the ground. I could not plant the flower where I had found the flower, because I had already ruined the flower to the point that it could not return. So I planted the flower carefully in a new spot. The flower was sad and surprised. I was sad though I knew it was coming. But I knew in my heart that the flower would be picked by someone else and would thrive and grow more beautiful. The new owner and the flower would be happier than I and the flower were capable of. And I went back to walking through the gardens, hoping that there was a flower meant for me.

There was once a small, dying flower
Her beauty was dim
Thoughts trapped her from deep below
The roots that held her down made it hard to grow

She lived a life of solitude
No other flowers blossomed beside her
Her sweet aroma nobody smelt
In the lonely landscape in which she dwelt

But then there came a day when something happened
The piercing blue sky changed into oyster silver
And as the flower proceeded to slowly die in pain
The miracle came. Rain.

The rain fell from the sky like liquid jewels
Each drop nourished the flower
Although the rain didn’t realize at first
It had helped the flower overcome the worst

Through the air the rain and flower shared silent whispers
The rain understood the flower’s dying condition
The flower was relieved that someone else knew
Of the deep trauma that everyday grew

For many weeks the rain showered on
To help the flower continue to be strong
But the rain didn’t know of the flower’s underground roots
The rain wanted to know but the flower kept them as emotional loots

One day another accompanied the rain
A being called sunshine, a beaming white light
Though slight droppings of rain spluttered down from the sky
The flower was inevitably starting to die

The flower didn’t want the rain to know
How dependent she was of her nurturing
The flower stood while its immunity could run
As the rain started to fade into the sun

The flower should be glad that the rain started to calm
For the rain carried pain and distress from far above
So the flower carried the trauma and rejection
Into the roots where she was bullied by her reflection

The sun was kindhearted, pure and bright
It shone optimism and grace to all in its range
It was actually a key to the flower’s survival
But neglect and jealously made her the rival

The flower started to push the rain away
She didn’t want to hold the rain back from serenity
So the rain dripped off the darkening petals
As the flower wishes, the rain cools and settles

The rain disappeared in the light of the sun
Creating a spectrum of colours bleeding across the sky
The flower sighed in relief of the petrichor
As the flower died, and became no more.

The listening stopped a while ago.
It’s like the monotonous sounds spewing from your mouth just didn’t meet the qualifications of entering my ears.
It wasn’t always like that, though.
You used to deliver information to my being like you were the great Giving Tree.
And I was a nearby flower.
A delicate, nearby flower.
A flower that went about its normal routines, such as photosynthesis or pollination or other flower things.
Ah, those flower things.
To me they are everything.
This flower would blossom in the spring and wither in the winter.
I would spend my flower days in the summer breathing in the glowing sunlight and living my flower life.
And in the fall, I would spend my flower nights rocking in the breeze, waiting for winter to come and bring me my renewal period.
I would look with my flower eyes toward you, the great Giving Tree.
Tall and ***** like the unstoppable force.
And I, there on the ground, the immovable object.
Your knowledge was so delightful at first.
It lit up my surrounding flower world more than the Sun ever could.
Your knowledge would come at all hours of the day, no matter rain or shine.
I remember once a long time ago when I was a little, tiny flower.
It was raining on my little tiny flower head.
But you knew what to tell me, great Giving Tree.
The rain that would beat pitter-patter on my pedals.
The water that would run down my stem.
You with your knowledge would tell me “Soak up the water my son. You need as much as you can hold.”
And I did just what you said.
Because I knew you were an unstoppable force, and could never be wrong.
And I, as the immovable object, would never let something stop me.
And then there was the time when I was an older, bigger flower.
The Sun was shining on my older, bigger flower head.
And you knew what to tell me, great Giving Tree.
The sunlight that shine zig-zag on my pedals.
The shadow that would cast from my stem.
You with your knowledge would tell me “Soak in the sunlight my son. You need as much as you can hold.”
And I did just what you said.
Because I knew you were an unstoppable force, and could never be wrong.
And I, as the immovable object, would never let something stop me.
But now I am a current, normal flower.
The world is passing by my current, normal flower head.
And you knew what to tell me, great Giving Tree.
You with your knowledge….
Said nothing to me, your son.
I didn’t know what to take in.
So I did just what you didn’t say.
And I just kept watching the world float by you, great Giving Tree.
You, the unstoppable force.
And I just kept watching the world float by me, the delicate flower.
Me, the immovable object.
And for the rest of our days you said nothing to me.
You don’t pass your knowledge to me, your delicate flower son.
Your immovable object.
And I stop listening to you, my great Giving Tree.
My unstoppable force.
The monotonous sounds spewing from your mouth just don’t meet the qualifications of entering my ears anymore.
The relationship we had has faded away.
But I had a feeling neither of us would win when we first met.

“Because you know what happens when the unstoppable force meets the immovable object.”

This Flower blooms and shines with every brush of sun rays
This Flower sprouted amidst three trees and the three trees fed the Flower with good shade
This flower grew up to imitate the trees
This flower developed the bark of the trees.

This Flower's peduncle is firmly fixed to the ground
Don't be carried away by the colourful petals of this Flower
for this Flower has a bittersweet nectar
This Flower has a stubborn core
This Flower looks fragile but it has a strong receptacle
This Flower looks beautiful but it's got thorns on its stem;
so be careful when you feel tempted to pluck it
But I say it is the Flower you'd probably never pluck.

This Flower has a pistil but doesn't have a stamen, so it is imperfect
But this Flower is a delight
Its fragrance is soothing to the nostrils
and its beauty is everlasting to the eyes
This Flower is ethereal.

you can't make a flower grow
by telling it you love it,
by telling it it's beautiful.

a flower will continue to wither away,
even if you keep saying "I'm here for you."
when winter comes and the flower begins to die,
telling the flower "it gets better" won't warm the temperature.

don't try to nurture a flower you picked.
it will never be safer in your hands,
than it was in the grass.
flowers will dry when you rip them from the roots.

don't look at a brown flower,
and ask it "whats wrong".
it wouldn't tell you
even if it could talk.

don't lie to the flower
and say "its going to be okay"
because you put it in a vase.
the flower knows its not the same.

don't bother saying "you're not alone"
because flowers die all the time,
it already knows.
the flower is still on its own.

you can't glue the petals back on,
after you've plucked them all for a game.
she probably doesn't love you,
and the flower is not to blame.

you can't straighten out the stem,
after you've stepped on it in passing.
it will always be bent
even if you repent.

"i didn't mean to" means nothing to a flower
after you leave it in the dark.
it doesn't matter what you've said,
the flower is already dead.

a withered and dry flower,
will not stand up and turn green
just because you love it.

these things are simple facts,
its how nature works,
and nature will never love you back.

i know you're really trying,
and doing everything you can.
but without water and sun,
the flower will keep dying.