Changed

There was a boy I used to know,
a boy with golden hair.
I knew him not too long ago,
when I was young, without a care.
New worlds opened on the playground,
and I was queen to his king.
Like drugs, our fantasties we downed,
growing like flowers in spring.
My roots began to change, pulled away.
But his stayed in that dirt.
Sunny skies turned to ashen gray,
and my heart began to hurt.
The world was strange without that child,
and spoken words filled with hate.
Shattered, flustered, bruised and riled,
I ran far from hell's gate.
When I came back he was a man,
but the change was not alone.
I knew he forgot where he began,
that he forgot our dirty throne.
The persona that was sweet and pure,
had changed so swiftly overnight.
I somehow needed to find the cure-
change him back into my knight.
But flower's petals can not change,
or so I soon found out.
You can only look on and arrange;
it was too late for my sprout.
And somedays I still think of him,
still lost inside that land.
The future now looks fairly grim,
but I can no longer make his stand.
His roots are in his own hands now,
and though I may twist and pull,
he is his own flower, I'll vow,
still as stubborn as a bull.