Farmer and Customer

My neighbor rips all my pretty, smiling flowers
from my hard labored yard
With his dazzling teeth, 
just like sun, 
he blinds them,
hypnotizing them into his cage
Once they have crossed the line things go bad
There are no more pretty flowers to smile at me at sunrise,
but muddy traces
traces with dirty holes
this happens at least four times a year
yet i can't stop planting flowers for my neighbor
For i am a farmer
A farmer plants for others to eat off his product
I labor hard and neighbor is my customer.
I give him a finished product and he pays me
pays me with negative numbers
I am a farmer,
and always will be,
till it kills me.
There's no other destiny.