I sat there, tracing the intertwined vines within the dying flower bed 

wondering how something so beautiful and perfect

can be destroyed by something else.

Something that can live and thrive in another place,

yet it takes home here.

Where the roots steal and the vines strangle,

in a place that used to be absolute,

a holy ground.

Getting taken advantage of,

being left nothing but the scar.

This is the only way I can explain the things that happen

to the ones we love and the ones we hate.

This is the only way I can explain what is wrong,

wrong with me, wrong with you, wrong with this entire world.

But this is the only way the world knows how to continue, 

so we must learn to stay strong and take the blows.

We must learn how to deal with the vines,

we must learn how to keep being the flowers.