I wanted to bury my feelings for you, deep within the ground so it was out of sight.

Never knew it was a seed, sprouting and blooming. It was beautiful you see  just one of a kind.

But I get it, you won't choose it.

Who would pick a daisy in a garden of roses.

And then you picked the one with the most thorns, now it's painted red just hiding in the colors.

But it's actually grey because you left.