Everyone expects each blossom to bloom

And release a sweet fragrance in springtime.

Each flower brings delight, but then we assume

That unopened buds are taboo or a crime

And let those florets shrivel in shadow.

Should their petals unfurl and release scents

As horridly foul as a corpse rotting slow

We close up the petals and make them repent.

This method is cruel and yet it we repeat

For we accept not diversity or the like thereof.

So now we must face our injustices and meet

The divergent blossoms and convey our love

To the lone ones who bloom alone in the night

And our cliquish ways may yet be set right.