Created me in spring
But I swallowed water
To grow anywhere from green.

In gulps of disturbia
Breathed in and out
The leap of fate that is found
In osmotically lean sciences.

They trusted to morph
My lucid moments of thrill
Into smudges of change
That evoked brushed memories
I knew I would never
Bear the pressure to recall
                               nor dwell on.

This callous decision
To move on with them is
Anything but to sound less obvious
And to erase all commas
                             as if mute anything
That is to be felt and to sense instead.