Another Innocent Floweret
In the same garden I was plucked onto from,
The garden of filth was where I was born,
So many ways to choose from,
Some leading to right and some had feelings of danger glow,
Yet I chose the one ending gracefully at you,
The endeavour of having the beautiful flowerets,
Put elegantly into each bouquet,
Oh was it my turn next?
I was, too, stuck in the same place,
Earlier it was, plastered with another beauty,
Not long before I had left a mark,
And thrown away just like any other one,
Oh, still, I smiled at least I was used,
Was it a living nightmare or a dream come true?