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Poem

Beneath the Nefaryes timeless, tangled roots.
where dreamscents rot and anger hoots,
Pokenose stirs with a spore-slick grin
not to charm, but to drag you in.

"You reek of want without refrain,
of wounds that swell instead of wane"
said Rose with petals dull and bare.
"Your scent is grief stripped of despair.”
“Desire without end is blight,” she sighed,
"A bloom that feeds but won’t abide".


But Pokenose, steeped in soil-stung grace,
turned slowly with a spattered face.
"For wounds remembered bear a creed
not every garden shuns the weed."


Lichens laced with fungal sneers,
whispered taunts in spongy jeers.
"You all gave your petals to birth a blight
a flower fed on flower's flight".
"Grow a spine, or better, spores!"
snapped mosses creeping broken floors.

"We wanted equality... nothing more.
said Tulip, trembling to the core.
"Equality is just a fragrant gloss,
but truth still seeps below the moss.
Respect, dear blooms, is root and air
not everything begins out fair."
said Thallorin, the last listening leaf.
"And justice blooms through shared belief".

"Oh darlings, must we always grieve?"
said Lotus, slick with sly reprieve
"Let justice wilt or the petals screech,
we are still beyond any mortal's reach".

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