Succulent

There is a small plant that sits on the corner of my life.

It is a tough little plant;
I have not watered it.
I do not give it soil, but I do take it, and throw it to the wind.
I do not give it light, but I do let it soak up my wrath and anger.
I do not give it love, but I do tell it that I'm going to water it later.
I have not watered it.

It's thick petal-shaped leaves are falling off and resting on the soil like the thoughts that clog my mind.
It's stem is bunching up in odd places. Deformed.

It's deformed.
I did that? No.

I didn't do anything; it's not my fault
- I forget so much
- I have a bad life
- I like throwing someone else's soil to the wind; everyone does it!
- I forget so much.

It's not going to die. It's a succulent.
It's a tough little plant.