What grand intelligence is this
that sends its tiny armies to invade
until every head is rent?
What shameful mockery
bids us to hold our faces high
without support?
We, who would preen on every breeze?
But left unblessed, we droop
and sigh instead.
There must have been some reason
to craft blooms which must be
staked or caged….
Or was it just a drunken bet
to see who would
prize so glaring a flaw?
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