When Dandelions Die Poem by huntress foryou

The child stood still
clutching her dandelions
with blood red
hands.
She felt her adult rush
by.
The child was angered
as she watched her
adult sink into
despair of thought.
The wind scattered the
dandelions as society
scattered youthful dreams.
The inner child frantically
tried to contain the dandelions...
as the adult lowered her head
in sorrow and wept.
They both clutched to the
misery that begot them.
A mystical fearful place.
The child sighed...that no
one was to blame....
when dandelions die