noveau

13 3 0
                                        

I remember the wilting flowers and

How they lost their color

The roots were cut

But still

They remained in water, begging for what's left of their life.

I remember when the water evaporated

And the flowers died.

They were thrown out

And turned to dirt for more

To grow.

And this time

No one plucked the flower,

It was too strong

Stubborn

And because of this

It was beautiful.

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