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Acacia Flower
You can’t starve yourself to move yourself
The words that you type can’t hurt as well
The physical sense derives from sense
When you lose your mind in innocence
Yet fortune falls in the strangest of ways
The emptiness sits for hours and days
Till the rivers turn stagnant and infect the plains
And the land and the trees are soon washed away
And like the Acacia flower that you dared to scorn
When you ripped out the leaves, the roots were torn
You found the lost petals to which the flower is only as good
If it is to withstand the frost and the flood
And the purpose of these plants is superficial and yet
There is not a flower that has not yet been kept
We are drawn to them by our own selfish will
And desire to place them upon our window sill
Yet the sweetest rose owns prickly thorns
But upon the right breast, it is sweetly worn
Still the Acacia wilted and died the frost
So its owner kept searching till he too was lost
