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My Roots Were Shaken MAG
“Rotten weeds,” you say
 and carelessly too, your 
 flippant attitude burning
 just as much as the arsonous 
 words that left your mouth
 
 the dandelions heard your two
 word speech and I saw them 
 wilt a little for it
 
 I wanted to tell them that
 we can't all be daffodils,
 but by that point your monstrous
 feet had already done their damage
 all that remained was a crippled stem and crushed petals
 what a shame, for that
 was all the beauty they
 had to offer you
 
 I knelt down to gently explain
 that you got hurt
 in the most important spot – 
 and that sometimes hearts
 will bend and warp like
 melting glass
 
 Years later I told those rotten
 weeds that they were sunbursts
 in a green sky and they stood
 breathtakingly proud for me
 they understood my words just
 as well as they understood yours.
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