she was the sun flower and they we're the winters frost.
They tore at her every edge ripped at her every wound and ignored her withered cries.
Treating her as is she was not something of great beauty but something of a great prize.
In the darkness they took her, they gripped at her pettals and smothered her stem. Cringing the pretty little sun flower just hung her head.
They left her in an instant, not a trace was left, all that could be seen was a flower in destress.
She was now just another lost flower in this withered old garden bed.