You saw me at first as this bright, little flower.
You thought you wanted me so you plucked me from the ground, my safe soil.
You carried me home in the pocket of your flannel not realizing that I am slowly dying beneath your chin.
You didn’t care, you never did. You just thought I was pretty.
You then took me out your pocket and saw that I wasn’t as vibrant as when you first took me. Just know you did this.
My petals discolored from the neglect.
My stem weakened and broke from the damage of your words.
Roots plucked against my will.
You tossed me out your window and went back out to search for a more beautiful flower.
Too naive to realize that this is a never-ending cycle
and you will never get back what you once had.
Though, I hope you never read this
for you will see the truth
you will know of the harm you caused
when you pulled my fragile, little flower roots.
