We shall make a new flower
One of no thorns
It will be a great rose
A perfect utopia
Different from the rest

It was called the Acirema
The great flower grows
And its steam is plump
It develops and evolves
It ***** the poor soil dry

The Acirema is the biggest flower of them all
But it develops weird protrusions
Each day of growth they sharpen
What has happened to the great Acirema?
Is it still a perfect one?

The dry soil gets angry
It wants its precious water
But all of it goes up to the sharp protrusions
The soil fights back by not giving any water
But the Acirema is smart, it built reserves

The giant steam still grows
Taller than any man
The steam is thick
The soil is dry
The Acirema is evil

These are not protrusions
These are not thorns
The Acirema is not what we wanted
These are spikes
What has this become?