'we are not things' they cried,
the fertile soils that held his seeds
escaped his roots, each and every bride
was yearning for flowers and trees and green
but he'd given them no water;
so they cried until they could no more,
lambs made for ****** slaughter,
they cried an ocean shore to shore
and planted their own flowers,
cared for them like newborns,
they turned their petals into power
and with a cry of 'we are people' killed him with their thorns.