Something Always Pinches And Rubs

I've never found a perfect fitting-shoe something always pinches and rubs, always breaks and needs a bit of superglue love is much like Goosegrass beneath the lilac shrubs. I've never found an accompanying sock. My socks are always strangely odd, one toe breaking the skyline like a pink hollyhock. I guess at times love, flits abroad, or is just a fraud. We, gardeners, sow our seed in the hope? That good-companion planting will be beneficial. That all we've learned now sees loves heliotrope following the sun ablaze less artificial. Yet still, I'm to find a rose not prone to black-spot fungal rot, a heart that isn't all a façade whose roots are firm and deep, never rocked? I guess at times love, flits abroad, or is just a fraud.