deepundergroundpoetry.com
[ The dandelions grow. ]
The dandelions grow.
So,
I strangle
and I choke
in hopes to make them croak
I pull
and I tug.
I rip up, with a rush, the dirty lengthy roots
But every day another always shoots
I make them choke as I face their pure yellows
I make them drip white blood on my hands with strife
but no matter how hard I strangle
no matter how hard I tear
those beautiful wretched flowers crowd my life.
So,
I strangle
and I choke
in hopes to make them croak
I pull
and I tug.
I rip up, with a rush, the dirty lengthy roots
But every day another always shoots
I make them choke as I face their pure yellows
I make them drip white blood on my hands with strife
but no matter how hard I strangle
no matter how hard I tear
those beautiful wretched flowers crowd my life.
Published 2nd Sep 2020
Author's Note
As pretty as a field of dandelions looks I can stand when one pops up in my garden. Just as in life weeds pop up every day without proper maintenance.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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2nd Sep 2020 1:23pm
