My dear when I tell you,
"I'm a late bloomer."
I need you to know, that I meant to say is,
"I have lost my petals and my stem is bare."
Own ****** hands, The only criminal is I,
I have taken shears and torn ungracefully.
There the petals lay underneath.
A gentle breeze then came by and swept them away,
Never to reach my clutches again.
My dear I made myself bloom far to early,
Letting the petals of myself vanish.
Leaving me astray within my own vessel.
— The End —