I Wish I Was of Nature by Anonymous

Twisted vines that give the berries and thorny stems of roses, 

Such complicated acts of nature. 

Bred to be bought and appreciated, 

Thrown out when they wither or sour. 

I am so much like the flowers that you expect to bloom, 

When you gather them in ornate vases to decorate your rooms. 

How you put them out and show them off up until they die. 

I am so much like the berries that you pick for your delight, 

How you deem them unfit for you at their smallest blight. 

That you enjoy for a moment then don’t remember that same night. 

Because I was grown to be pretty and made to be used. 

I have been brought up on light and water and a need to breathe. 

Yet I’ve been grown as something you hated the thought of. 

So why are you surprised when I sour and wither? 

When you keep me as something only to amuse, or you treat me as a spare. 

I cry and hide and deny your love; 

Like you denied me air.