Milkweed

Buds and blossoms bloom of white,
over twenty of their kind but all of whom contrite,
filled with their poisons,
and their toxins do depress,
it's all we can do but not eat them and repress
the darkness they do jam into our hearts.

Their pods are brown,
small and dry and cracked in hand,
it's texture the wisps of desert sand.
Look to it, open it's shell,
and it reveals it's inside stuff,
this fluff, so white, tender on skin,
when planted keeps their race on again.

It's delacate allure,
it's simple laid-back appearance,
do not be fooled by this gentle outward sight,
for eaten, it will use all it's might,
and you will be torn to shreds,
your happiness gone, torn away,
your body weakened and eventually death,
cold and calm as winter's breath.

Buds and blossoms bloom of white,
this plant is such a pretty sight,
not at all a sore to the naked eye,
but if it opened, licked, or eaten,
you will be no more, goodbye.