Daisy Picking

Circle the petals of the little white daisy:

one-two-three

four-five-six-

how many times

until the petals fall, and you call it lazy?

Pluck and tear without remorse

for its beauty you distort

calling it nothing for anymore

nothing of any worth

because you decided you could dictate its sort.

Circle the petals of the little white daisy

wishing it were red,

pink, orange, or blue

demeaning it for not being just for you,

for not being enough of a lady.

You blame the roses, too,

and the lilies,

you blame the carnations and the peonies

for not being your favorite, what you choose,

and yet again you made everything about me, about you.