Planted there isolated,
Looks at it from a distance,
The flower is stuck,
Questioning its existence.

Planted just out of reach,
From the sunlight it craves,
Feeling no better,
Than moss in caves.

Gazing at the sunlight,
Twisting and reaching for rays,
But this flower hasn't felt warmth,
In far too many days.

It begins to die,
Slowly bowing its head,
It could have tried harder,
But it chose death instead.