Sometimes, I like to think
that the reason I wilt
is because I am a flower.
Flowers are beautiful things,
are they not?
It's why we pick them
and its why they die.
Beautiful things always
die in the end.
Its the way things go.
The sun rises
and it falls.
Nature takes its course.
Suppose I was beautiful once...
But suppose someone came along
and plucked me from the ground.
Its why I wilt.
Because he did just that.