The Four Lilies

If the ground represents society
Unblemished
Broken, but in the right ways,
Grateful for what has been given to us
Even though the dirt is filled with pesticides and ants
Us four lilies definitley grow on trellises
Everything we are not supposed to be
Even the sight of us glowing in the sunlight is an act of casual defiance
I know how much a gardener would like to take a spade to each of us
To take gold, make him grow symettrical, perfect gold petals, trim them to be round and uniform
To grab evergreen, force her into a planting pot, and drain the beautiful vibrance from her, turning her cardstock green
To nip perriwinkle, place her in soil too acidic, reach down into her black-blue base and yank it out, making her vapid and "nice"
They wouldn't even have to touch me to break me, if my lilies were gone
I would wilt off of the vine, crumple to the ground, the bright red would leech from my petals turning me a dull pink
Sometimes I wonder if they really are lilies, why they, so beautiful and bright and full of opportunity, would force themselves up on the trellis with me
Perhaps they are beautiful marigolds, or brilliant daffodils, or forget-me-nots in disguise
But when gold calls me at midnight, or perriwinkle clutches me close, or evergreen beams up at me
I know that all four of us are lilies
And while we each have our own distinct bulbs and petals 
Underground, our roots are a cluster of confusion, tangling us together to make a beautiful mess
We are four lillies, but we are one soul