Leaves of brown, petals unwound
I shrivel in your awkward shadow.
Had to pluck your roots, snap your stems.
Drown you out with dirt, and other seeds.

But somehow, you spring up again.
Desperately ugly and undead.
Even Earth had to regurgitate
That unsightly, darkened head.

Stubborn smog won't turn to vapor,
Not even seasons wilt your verdure.
Rivalries rage, with out any shame.
What has been done, remains.