Go pluck yourself.

And like a wilted flower, your petals drop from the roots they dug into my heart.

Your aroma, no longer sweet,

And your company, venomous, disgusting, and dull, like poison ivy.

Oh my tulip,

how you’ve died.

And something in me too, dies with you,

Only to regain itself in a flower, one, like you once were.

For now, I bury you and your seed somewhere far,

Let you be forgotten in my garden.

Many a weed there will keep your company.

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