Poor Little Flower

Poor little flower.

I fed you gasoline in hopes of wilting your petals,

but your roots grew stronger and dug deeper,

finding sustenance in richer soil.

I planted saplings to block your sun,

but your undergrowth became lush,

your foliage deepened.

You learned to blossom before the leaves

burst from the trees,

stealing your thunder.

When all else failed,

I chopped off your splendor,

leaving nothing but an ugly stalk

and without my permission

you continued to grow,

becoming more beautiful

than I could imagine.

I have done everything I could to hamper your existence,

Still you survive.

You remain strong

without my love,

my faith,

my friendship.

Yet you keep me here,

by your side.

A testament to your grace.