Anology of the Plant
I wish I was a plant.
Swaying in the breeze.
Not a care in the world
Would ever reach me.
Plants never gain
They never have to lose.
They always look perfect
Even without a muse.
Plants are always picked
For their beauty
For their stature.
I am never picked
For I am cruelty
For I am no matter.
A plant has no fears
And I have many tears.
A plant is pure
And I have no cure.
Though, I have hate
And a plant cannot relate.
Why do we love plants,
If plants cannot love?
Perfection is not real
For perfection does not feel.
Swaying in the breeze.
Not a care in the world
Would ever reach me.
Plants never gain
They never have to lose.
They always look perfect
Even without a muse.
Plants are always picked
For their beauty
For their stature.
I am never picked
For I am cruelty
For I am no matter.
A plant has no fears
And I have many tears.
A plant is pure
And I have no cure.
Though, I have hate
And a plant cannot relate.
Why do we love plants,
If plants cannot love?
Perfection is not real
For perfection does not feel.