The Man Part Three: Concrete Treasure
1But the truth is
I sprung from the dirt.
drilling among worm holes
Tunneling towards the air
5I could taste it
Up through my root
Twinkling in my soul
Content, I lingered in the grime
I remember when I reached
10The oxygen I so dearly yearned for,
How thick and heavy it felt
I was weak
Yet I grew, grew, and grew
Like someone pulling an unending string
15I sprouted
leafed
And budded
Reaching above my fellows
Shadowed by many more
20I remember the day I bloomed
Watching myself burst
In a color I could not name
Warmth welcomed me
I lapped it up like a savage dog
25But I am a rose
Identified by self
Perfectly petaled
Protected by thorns and
I am delightfully looked upon
30Youth is of my favor
My stem is full of water
My leaves are vibrant
Not dulled in sage
I remember the day,
35That terrible and long ago day,
When the stem I so proudly
Waved upon, became bent
And broken through
So brutal and abrupt
40At once my stem was
Cut
My livelihood, my goo,
it all came oozing out
Of all the rest
45My pride, my pride
Boasted I was chosen
I remember the gust of wind
That rattled and ripped
Wrinkling all my petals
50Large, beige, thick masses
They passed me all about
They ruffled, they prodded, they tore
piece by piece.
In silence I cooperated
55No thorns could help me now
Not much of me was left
Plummeting to the ground
Laid my soul to rest
Released and sent to dry
60What purpose did I have?
A mangled rose
On a concrete slab
I remember then, just
moments before the end
65New mass of beige
Cupped me in among its
Stringy masses
They lifted up my petals
Enforced them so they'd stay
70My stem was placed in water
Refreshment soon revived
So who would want a rose,
So mangled through and through?
I'll never forget the Beige that said
75I do
