Daffodils playing in the mountains spring,

Forests hold magical things,

I left my locket at the waters side,

I left my heart at its right,

Seasons pass where I don’t notice,

Seasons pass as it grows old, and eroded,

I find my locket in another life,

I find my heart at its right,

But it’s long since stopped beating,

I trusted the forest with my heart oh so pure,

Misguided was I,

And I was so young,

So then as forests do,

It killed me,

It drained my heart,

And I was forced to grow anew,

A new flower on my head,

New roots in the dirt,

Stronger than before,

I stood up and pulled my locket out from the grass that had grown around it,

And I ran,

The forest rustled with whispers of what I had done,

What I was doing,

The forest called apon it’s leaves,

Who then brushed up against me,

Whispering coo’s of promises as sweet as the sugar on a roses lip,

I took it with a grain of salt,

And treated it as a syrupy assault,

Sweet at first,

Almost nice,

But then you see it’s true colors,

And if I do say so things grow rather sticky,

I didn’t listen,

I ran faster than I ever had,

Faster than I ever thought I’d run from them,

From the daffodils,

As my hair whipped in the wind behind me,

And my steps grew larger,

I ripped that photograph of me and the other daffodils playing in the mountains spring out from my locket,

I let it fall behind me and I was finally free,

Though you’re never truly free when it comes to daffodils.

Basically, this poem is like a metaphor for a friend group that hurts you, and drains you. So when you finally have enough of it, finally can’t take anymore, you leave. But the “daffodils” are always there texting you, and trying to get you back. And it sounds so sweet, so nice like a sirens call because you’re not in the thick of it anymore, and you don’t remember how bad it hurt.