Every morning when she wakes up, 
She finds herself yearning
For the emerald leaves 
That rustled with the gentlest of summer winds
For the glimmering tourmaline pools
That rippled with the softest touch.

They ripped the vines from her hair
The moment she stepped out of the forest
His whispers of love and worship
Turned to ash and
Locked her away. 
Her tears are cherry blossom petals
And her agony sprouts stinging nettles. 
She discovers belladonna in her veins
And oleander in her lungs. 

Her dreams of gems and luxury
Have been discarded. 
All she wishes for now is home. 
So, she bides her time 
Lets the seeds of resentment
Germinate in her throat
Until the day comes
For nature to overtake man.