Poetry

The grass grows tall,
Witnessing the constant death of flowers
Watching them fall in cold blood,
Knowing saving them is not in its powers
But the grass' worst fear
Is watching a flower not have the strength to live
Then slowly withering,
Because of a nutrient that the grass couldn't give
Because the grass cares for all
That grow in its dirt
And each time a root looses life,
The grass takes the hurt
Takes the blame and the pain,
Soaking up the feelings like rain
Knowing the land won't be the same
The roses are dying, it's such a shame.