Hypocrisy is a weed
to point at flaws
and cast stones at our form.
thanks to stress
we wrestle to reason
so dead and gone weeds
return with aggression
“Pay attention to how I feel.”
There’s a reason why I reappear
and you bloom on top of me,
tangling ourselves as hypocritical gardens
“You should understand my pain.”
And The Butterfly Effect,
the Bane of our existence
succeeds in making things harder,
thorns sharper and stalks stronger.
Angry tears water abandoned plants
growing in our gardens:
“I wish we understood each other,
and withheld the blame.”
We are creation after all.
Truly that patience is deep inside
below the root of those weeds
And if only we reached down,
spiteful plants would wither away.