METAPHORICAL POEMS TO GET RID OF PESSIMISM

Soul made of Flowers

See me as a being.
Additional.
I'm not material right now.
But I have my subject.
I have me,
What wait and
Wait
Wait
Wait...

I came to take satisfaction.

I shine golden.
That's how I was raised.
I'm searching for my heart.
Marked by the sun.
That it was unfairly stolen.
And it's in someone's hands.
Perhaps he would pay dearly for it.
But what do I need now.
It's my heart back.

I walked...
Saw...
Cry...
I screamed...

But until you find...

🫀☀️

My physical body has sunflowers in its bowels...
Roses in your mouth...
I urgently need to heal.
Heal.
Heal.
To improve.
Run.
To laugh.
To cry.
Revive.

To live...

When I found the same curls,
That held my heart.
He looked confused along with his partner.

— This heart... doesn't belong to you — i i would say looking into his brown eyes.

The curly one was paralyzed by the tone of my voice.

— Yes... it's her... heart... — he replied.

— It's not...my heart has the mark of the sun... Just as I was created. I won't be fooled by your lies again, you're a sweetheart... But I died and I'm waiting to be revived... — I took my heart from your hands.

I slapped him on the forehead.
And I turned...
I walked to where my body was.
The sunflowers were still alive.
My body...
Depressed and bloodied.
I took the flowers from her.
I put my heart into my body.
And I lay down.
I hugged myself...
When the sun rose.
My blood ran.
My tears were hot.
I felt the sunlight give me life again.
I started laughing.
A long, loud laugh.

I loved myself at that moment.
Despite almost dying...
I was there.
Both ways.
I saved myself.
I felt.
I was doing everything to stay alive again.
My laugh echoed around the place.
I got up.
And I felt my glow increase with every breath I took.
I danced.
I jumped.
I sang.

But my flowers were there with me.

Showing...

With lots of love: Myself.