You have no reason to do what you do.
I said to the young lady
Pulling petals
Off stems.
They are beautiful
And delicate
With no way to mend.
And she looked at me sadly
And I didn't know
That she pulls the petals
Off of their stems
Because her mother didn't think so.
Didn't
Think she was delicate
Or beautiful
Or all that she is.
There is no way to mend
What was taken away
Because her mother didn't think so
And she let that bastard stay
When all he did was go around pulling
Petals of stems
Then kissing the gardener with rancid breathe every night.
As her pretty little tulip lay
Still out of fright
And went off pulling petals off of stems
In the day.