When you took my own soul from me,
Of course I wasn’t going to be “okay”
You planted me in your rotted heart,
Grew me under artificial light,
Poured vinegar on my stomata for growth,
And ripped out my roots when you’d seen enough.

There.
Lying among the rest of your bouquets.
With screaming petals of
“He loves me, He loves me not”
Pouring out pure life from my stem.
You took my own soul from me,
Of course I wasn’t going to be “okay”