Robins and roses, robins and roses,

standing amongst the fakers and posers,

growing between cracks of jagged concrete.

Rising above trickery and deceit,

piccadilly flowers, pollen in the air,

cold-blooded lizards that show little care,

for the robins and roses that bloom,

from sunlight trampled by broken feet.

They bloom and bloom, until they’re consumed

by beings that mistreat them 

that deserve to be eaten.