So you say you’re sorry,

But is that so,

Then how come you hack at my weeds

When I only wish to grow.

I may have thorns, and needles, and vines,

But I have petals, and rhythm, and beauty that is mine.

Don’t decrease my soil

Because you see no good;

If you attempted to uncoil,

You would know that you could.

But alas, you apologize,

Do you really mean it?

I shall photosynthesize,

While you take back the words you deleted.

So maybe I hover

Over your vivacious violets, your polite peonies, your radiant roses, your luscious lavender, your outstanding orchids, your precious petunias, and your garden oh so glorious.

But at least I don’t cover

The parts of myself that aren’t nearly as victorious.

Don’t say you’re sorry,

For I don’t want your pity.

Don’t even worry,

You see, I am as lovely as I am witty.