There's a beautiful flower
at the end of my yard.
Purple or red
depending on the sun.
My flower is made of steel,
but it breaks like glass.
My flower is rusty
and covered in dirt.
She's bent in her middle,
My beautiful flower.
Her leaves brown and wilted.
She's just at the end of the yard.
I never walk to see her
for fear she'll run away.
My flower she is perfect.
She is filled with misunderstanding.
I never get to close
she doesn't want me near anyway.
My gorgeous flora,
she grew out of mud.
I never touch her.
Her dried up dying petals.
She doesn't need me.
My beautiful flower.