wildrose

I am withering, Bees don't swarm me anymore, My aura and colors fading.. I am about to die, why did you pluck me? I was on a parched and waste land... But I had roots for my aid, Leaves and wind to support You stuffed me in this vase, beautiful Only for the eyes of the beholder Inside it is dark, lonely and stark.. I am thirsty, my soul yearns.. Quench my thirst, lest i die...

 He called me mom... Another called me love.. Applause, praises and cheers I was basked in glory... But they feared the world Their hearts were full, but mouths shut None abandoned their pride To make me their someone or own..