If I could go back to 2014
When I was but a little flower
And my petals had started blooming
Spring was seconds away
And the sun's warmth a gentle alarm
Awaking me every dawn
To sing with my brothers and sisters
The beautiful tales of summer.
I wouldn't wake up
As it urged me to
Its rays
A soft caress
Luring me like a siren to open my eyes
And face ahead
For it is this very day
That all went awry
And the meadow became a desert.
They came with pitches and forks
Knives tucked away in their boots
And machetes in their left hands
They slashed
They burned the whole meadow down
And when they were done
They started a new
For the envy of my beautiful melody
And the attention
That the sun bestowed
Upon my humbled presence
Consumed their souls like dark fire
The same one they used to burn me to the ground
YOU ARE READING
To The Introverts
PoetryAt the unforgiving eyes of the world, I lay here with a pen in hand, To write about the secrets I keep, The untold stories of an introvert.
