Nacirema

The most bleached pure lilies
dancing in the spinning winds,
weaving colorless silly
tapestries for nearby friends.

Bleeding, staggering roses
brandishing green stained swords.
Warring nature though none notice
their limbs littering floors

The sad grieving violets
hiding their tears in the rains.
They know well the world's violence,
often picked to share pain.

Pain, joy, and sadness paint such beautiful hues,
They own this land we stand on these reds, whites, and blues.