A deep, purple petunia,
Broken, battered, and bruised.
How did it get here?
To this lifeless, mechanized place?
How did it get this way?
Mutilated and tragic...
It is so hard to believe it
Once was fresh and whole,
But in its weeping wiltedness,
It still is beautiful.
Broken, battered, and bruised,
Still doing its best to add
Some beauty to this world,
In spite of all the obstacles...
Like my heart?