Such a small delicate being,
so easily does it wilt,
taking all of it's life,
and sipping it through it's intertwining roots,
once plucked,
it withers into a dark, shut off, decaying mass,
it's life is too easily finished,
Though small,
their voices are loud,
in the form of vivid scents,
spiraling sensations through passer-by's noses,
they take what nutrients are given,
and create a life for themselves,
A flower was given,
from a kind heart,
only to die within moments,
Her voice fades away,
as weeds tug at her throat,
not a word that can be heard anymore,
when uprooted,
give a flower sunlight water,
sing sweet words into her ears,
she'll grow,
stretching towards the sky,
but cut off her  roots,
and she'll never bloom again,
Such a strong flower,
but too easily cut off