I'm five years old, I have a crush. <br />I pick a flower and give it to him. <br />'You're a killer, ' he says coldly. <br />I look down at the flower, <br />Once so very beautiful. <br />I know he's right, I'm a killer. <br />I plucked an innocent being <br />Disconnected it from its life it had. <br />This flower, now limp and rotting <br />In my hand. <br />It got me thinking, <br />How life can be so delicate <br />Like this tiny flower, wilted already. <br />I was a killer, and I cried <br />For the flower, and for its life <br />That it used to have, until <br />I plucked it out of existence. <br />At five years old, I learned a lesson. <br />And now I tell you: <br />Don't give flowers to boys.<br /><br />Cheryl Cheng<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/killer-6/
