Daisies

Two souls, woven together
Both intricate, in their design.
Either, driven by a passion
One, that cannot be confined.
Listed, as wanted.
By a fate, that seeks to condemn.
Dead or alive, it demands.
Either way it doesn't overwhelm.

Whether the efforts will ever suffice,
It cannot be foreseen.
Though their doing may be inexpiable,
They cannot be decreed.
Like the two florets of a daisy
Spontaneous and uncontrolled
Parted in the making,
Fragmented, yet whole.





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