My flower
A flower among the field,
The most beautiful of all in its row,
Stares at me with such perfection,
And i want to pick it so.
but a picker already came,
they picked the flower from the crop,
I scream, i cry, i rip, i pry,
I yell for them to stop.
They marval at the beauty,
they show it off to me,
they say with such pride and glory,
"isn't it pretty?"
I settle down and agree,
"yessir, it's they most beutiful i've seen,
But please don't scar or hurt it.
Or i shall rip out you're splean."
All i can do is hope,
hope that they give the flower back to me.
For i will be forever in pain,
that i cannot ever seem to have the flower meant for me.
The most beautiful of all in its row,
Stares at me with such perfection,
And i want to pick it so.
but a picker already came,
they picked the flower from the crop,
I scream, i cry, i rip, i pry,
I yell for them to stop.
They marval at the beauty,
they show it off to me,
they say with such pride and glory,
"isn't it pretty?"
I settle down and agree,
"yessir, it's they most beutiful i've seen,
But please don't scar or hurt it.
Or i shall rip out you're splean."
All i can do is hope,
hope that they give the flower back to me.
For i will be forever in pain,
that i cannot ever seem to have the flower meant for me.