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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.
