The Plight of the Forgotten Guardian

You’d cry for a rose, but you won’t cry for me.

Your eyes are the bromeliad's cup on a rare weepy day,

I see them spill over when her limbs fall away.

But it is empty for me. I know that, I see.

Even without her, her kind will live on.

The light of her species is globally shone;

She oversees marriage,

And oversees death,

And oversees dainty things, 

The nervous catch in your breath.

Yet I was cast out when they first saw my face,

A horror, Arachne, to live in disgrace.

What a shame you are blinded by terrible names,

For my beauty is not what your wariness blames.

What a shame you don’t know that I’m nature’s best friend,

That once I am gone, it’ll start to descend.

The people from here are 'just too weird' for you,

You’ll dream of a Northern world and forget what you knew.

You think that we’re harsh, and arid, unkind,

If it’s unkindness you seek, then reflect on your mind.