My Garden

You Withered my Flowersand I watched them Deterioratingas you poured Acid on themswearing it to be water. When I watched my Petals fall to the Ground,where you thought they laid best,I asked you "Why?"and you reacted as if I were the one who Burned our home to the Ground. My Roots had been Ripped out from under meyet I couldn't scream for help.For I was but a mere garden I was to be Seen and Admiredbut not Heard or Understood, therefore the Help I received was Minimal. I Silently picked up my Fallen corollasplacing them on Paper for the world to review,and when the world Cheered for meI started Blooming once again.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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