the social structure of this world, as i have come to know it, is much like the derelict garden situated in front of my house. there are weeds that appear as bright and as beautiful as the fair, authentic flowers, but are still weeds deep down in their roots. they infest the garden with their sourness, growing more quickly than those unsuspecting flowers that persistently stand tall in the pseudo-flowers’ presence.

despite the great animosity hanging over the garden, wallflowers blend in nicely, unminding of the clash of roots and personalities. all the while, the weeds grow thicker and more resilient. the infestation soon overwhelms the plot of earth until all of the true, genuine beauty of the garden is ravished and nothing but fakeness remains.