Forsaken soul
Taking root in a land thought barren
Or hostile
Or uninhabitable

Where the water is poison

The air toxic

Will your vines slip through the cracks,
Dandelion?
Will you be the ****
That blossoms in the summer
And leaves yellow stains on
The palms of our hands?

Will we cut your roots down?

Will we shut out the sun?

Do we shake the earth with cloven hooves
And break the stone?

Maybe you'll **** the water supply dry

Or maybe you'll just **** the poison out