boxed; a cornflower seed treasured in a fancy chest;
an innocent stalk that saw too many storms from the vast horizon;
however mighty a knight, it's still a heavy crest;
painted blues that mask the darker shade of oblivion.eager to tell the sky its withering leaves that are hidden;
eager to ask the rain to drown its aching root;
eager to beg the wind to drift away its petals that won't glisten;
eager is its self-made cage to swallow alone all the toxic loot.but it's the moment to pick up the poppy that was meant for you;
the battle may be far from over but stop fighting from pouring out;
accept the thorns that scar and learn to slowly break through;
because after you cry your soul, your smile will soon return from the south.i'll be the time you never gave yourself, but you're the august to your hurt;
i can be a moon to lift your tide, but you are the serenity you divert.