She's like a dandelion she sprouts and waits until the Sun shines on her then she blooms but as the day passes with the sun shining on her his warm rays turn into scorching dry heat and beat down on her luminous pedals transforming her beauty into sticks-fragile wands with white bitter wings on the end. She'll sit and wait in her pathetic sadness the Sun torturing her delicate limbs with slight breezes pulling and plucking her plumage away in hopes she realizes she was always just a ****