I am a golden flower, I stand out in the garden. But over time the shade deteriorates and drains me. I run out of water and I begin to rot. My pure inner golds begin to fade into bronze. I have lost all my authority, I beg to be noticed, to have some sunshine to grow. But all I experienced is shade, humiliation and toxicity from the weather. I plead to myself when will I become healthy again. Where has my spark gone I get picked out the flower garden and tossed to a side. Over time I start to fall apart and decompose until I become compost. I won’t be put in resin and made into a book mark, my beauty is no longer so why would I be shown off? No one wants flowers when they’re dead.