The flowers
They are alluring
But they are not ours to pluck
They belong to the earth
And they belong to the dirt
Who have fathered them since seed

The flowers
They are delicate
But they are not ours to break
They belong to the sun
And they belong to the sky
Who have mothered then since sprout

We pick flowers
And give them to the ones we love most
Not ever realizing we are killing a living thing

We pull petals from the stem
Screaming "They love me, They love me not"
Not even realizing we are taking a life

From something
We can't even take a second
Of our time to appreciate



What does that show about us..?