What are you? You Mannequin.
You wear love like the latest fashion
Memorize lines and act the part
But be devoid of passion.
You are arced in my mouth and I spit you out.
You ripped my heart from the roots up
But it's beginning to grow again
There will be roses where you pruned it.
Yes, lily's in the deepest darkest valley
That grow wild, untouched by your hand.
You are a gardener in the picture I have of you.
You are cutting all the flowers down.
"Must not have disorder" you say
"Must not let things grow where they can't be told"
You are sheering the grass into dirt
"Must not attract bees" you say
Harmful spreaders and vicious infectors
Spreading the sex of flowers
Like a rebellious sect.
"They spread over night"
"A firm hand is a loving one"
Is it love to take the beauty from this patch of earth?
Stripping the flowers of all
Comeliness and favor,
Dressing them down like your plain woman.
Even so, it must bristle your heart
To know each one caries the seed
Of it's loveliness.
It remembers what it was born to be
It nurses the memory until death
Then releases those pods of promise
Into the wind.
And deep beneath your drear garden
There is a stirring.
In the warm womb of the earth
Awakens the precious scion of hope.