I wanted to bury my feelings for you, deep within the ground so it was out of sight.
Never knew it was a seed, sprouting and blooming. It was beautiful you see just one of a kind.
But I get it, you won't choose it.
Who would pick a daisy in a garden of roses.
And then you picked the one with the most thorns, now it's painted red just hiding in the colors.
But it's actually grey because you left.
Why would you even pick the flower that bloomed for you