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Your Spring

You have opened your wings to the beautiful Spring Breeze
With colors of vibrant yellows and greens
You die with the cold of winter and the trample of careless feet,
Stomped into the earth like some plain ugly weed
Your are thoughtlessly picked by human hands,
given to their loved ones like you don’t have your own
Doomed to die
You long to be free, to be with that beckoning breeze of spring
To escape the harm of winter and destruction for at least a day
To fly with your fellow butterflies
But even you know you can’t
Because the simple fact of the matter is, flowers like you can’t fly





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