I've had mindless conversations
With myself,
About one day,
What if,
And what may.
When I was a little girl,
I had those same conversations,
Of what I will be when I'm older,
Who I will be.
I had dreams,
Dreams so bright,
They even shone brighter,
Than the carelessness of my laughter.
When I was a little girl,
I would aimlessly wander,
Into empty meadows,
And I would wonder,
Could I ever be like a flower?
So innocent,
So pure,
So inspiring,
Not realizing that I was already as
Pure.
But now,
These mindless conversations,
Are sterner,
And more firmer.
I tell myself to get through another
Day,
My what iff's are hopes to close my
Eyes,
My what may's are tears that flow
Without being judged.
See, dreams do die.
And that flower that I was,
Well she treads ground that's
Unstable.
But it's the ground of her own heart.
She aches to be found,
But she hides herself away.
Flowers don't hide away,
They bask in their glory,
Serving to brighten up their own day.
See, flowers do die.
Dreams and Flowers,
Both such amazing things.
But like all beautiful things,
They need to have an end,
An end so sudden,
An end so unexpected.
The end of my dreams,
The end of my flowers.
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Poetic Justice
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