A flower grows out from the earth
With a weed around its legs
A simple kind of birth
That no one came to see
The flower looked down at the weed
That groveled in the dregs
And tried to shake the ugly seed
To cause the thing to flee

For many days, the flower glared
Down at the parasite
And as she looked, her anger flared
Her health to take the cost
But through her tremors and flails and kicks
The weed had held on tight
And in this dead unholy mix
Neither one had lost

And as the weed looked at the flower
He cursed her charming name
For though she held so much great power
She would share none with he
He simply wanted to grow up high
His rightful place to claim
For in a field, all things would try
To become a tree
And in their warring, bloody state
They opened up their eyes
For though they had both come irate
They both shared the same need
The need to grow, the want to thrive
They came to compromise
They simply wanted to feel alive
Both the flower and the weed