Black Heron Pack

I am a gardener.
But I don't want to be.
I used to be a tall, beautiful purple flower
Yet still, people will treat me however.
As I stand here in my field of lavender,
People think of me
As the only gardener they'll ever see.

They put me on a pedestal
Picked and plucked at every petal ,
They didn't want me to be a flower
They wanted me to be the stem.
Or, maybe, just something easy to condemn.
I promise that there was a time I was easy to take care of.