The Gardener

The Gardener
I pluck a daisy from the earth.
Oh, what a lovely scent!
It's life seeps out, and I watch it die.
I add it's corpse to my bouquet,
a bundle of stolen lives,
a bundle of corpses.
I am the gardener.
My job is to take care of my flower garden.
I go to each flower, and make it happy.
I water my garden.
I feed my garden.
When the flowers are beautiful and ready, I pluck them.
Then, I rip off their petals,
one by one.
♠ ♠ ♠
A poem about whatever you think it's about.