The flowers of old,
Blossoming and becoming anew,
The oldest of roses to die and be reborn,
Red, Yellow, Black,
Red: for the love I could only dream of,
Yellow: for the friend I will never see again,
Black: for the family I won't see until Death meets with me.

But yet, here come a person with a new handful of flowers!
The choices, how to pick, and where to start?
From wilted flowers to ambrosia,
For my love is to be rejected by most,
And loved by few.
From the pine to the petunias,
For my self-hope only causes pity from others.
Of which causes anger towards those people.
Candytuft, dead leafs, gloxinia, and orange lilies,
All symbolize my life,
Indifference and Hatred,
Sadness and love at first sight,
All those things put together,
Yet I still try living through all the conflicts.

By,
Jayson Foster