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My Roots Were Shaken MAG
“Rotten weeds,” you say
and carelessly too, your
flippant attitude burning
just as much as the arsonous
words that left your mouth
the dandelions heard your two
word speech and I saw them
wilt a little for it
I wanted to tell them that
we can't all be daffodils,
but by that point your monstrous
feet had already done their damage
all that remained was a crippled stem and crushed petals
what a shame, for that
was all the beauty they
had to offer you
I knelt down to gently explain
that you got hurt
in the most important spot –
and that sometimes hearts
will bend and warp like
melting glass
Years later I told those rotten
weeds that they were sunbursts
in a green sky and they stood
breathtakingly proud for me
they understood my words just
as well as they understood yours.
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