“Why’d she have to die?” A little boy asks his father He is talking about his sister He had seen his sister cutting He had seen the scars upon her But he didn’t know what Was really happening to her His father asked him A simple question back “Why do we kill flowers?” The little boy thought about this And then looked up at his father And with a sad look on his face “Because they’re pretty, daddy” The boys’ father looked down at him “She didn’t think she was, did she?” The boy shook his head and looked down He had always thought his sister was pretty He now thought of her as a flower Because the pretty flowers always die. But what his father forgot to tell him, Not all the pretty flower’s die Some live through storms And some live through drought But in the end they’re still as pretty. They live as some of the prettier ones. Most people think they’re Even more pretty than the rest. Now that the little boy has grown older He discovered for himself That some flowers manage to stay alive With just a little bit of outside damage Even when flowers Suffer through storms They’re still absolutely beautiful. Just like flowers change the world With all of their differences People can change the world In the same exact way. -Marvyy!