Yaaaaay, it's more societal commentary!

A sprout, trapped in earth,

Trapped in darkness.

Watch it grow, small and shriveled,

Be upset that it isn't blooming, even though you planted it.

Now it's a shoot, drooping—

As dusky and depressing as the grey world around it,

Slated to rejoin the soil

And fade amongst all the dead things.

By some miracle of fate, it has survived

Without your care, since it has adapted to an affectionless world—

Covered in thorns, pricking the fingers of all who reach out,

But are you really surprised?

It sits in the plant nursery,

Growing larger and larger, still thorny,

And even if you trim it back, it regrows

Sharper than ever.

Its outstretched vines strangle the plants around it;

Its thorns wound anyone who tries to touch it;

And it withers, dying branches reaching further and further out

As the stem sags and the leaves drop.

When the plant finally dies,

You don't notice for days.

And to be entirely honest,

You don't care at all.