I tried to plant a garden
I toiled and tilled til my nails were nothing but blackened nubs
Like small pieces of charcoal
And I spent my last coins on seeds- because the granddaughter of a florist must have flowers
But my blooms wilted
My leaves shriveled
And locusts chewed on my darlings til they were nothing but the frailest stems
Like my legs looked, when I was fifteen

For days I mourned. Years it seemed. More coins spent on seeds, more work in the sun
But I kept ending up with bare roots and dry buds
Until finally, one day, I looked down at my barren garden and asked it, how do I make you beautiful?
To which my garden replied

cow ****.

Because the lotus can’t grow without the blackest of mud. The roses can’t bloom without meal made of blood.
my garden had died... because I hadn’t gone through enough cow ****.