Pollination in NPC-Ville

I walk in the white flower garden,

One block of peace

In a mountain of steel,

Glass, smoke, and grease.

The flowers have tattooed

Their white petals brown,

Exposed their stems

For a night on the town.

They speak of old flowers

Who once shared their bed,

How far their particular

Pollen has spread.

You can watch how they wilt

While they boast that they thrive

And you wonder why bees

Opt to stay in the hive.

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