Just A Suicidal Flower

an over-it oak tree

it's almost the start of our next school year.

the end of summer is coming up,
and i am proud to say
that i haven't
thought
of
you
once.

not once.

i don't wonder how you're doing
i don't talk to any of your friends
i don't speak of you to mine
i don't care.

and that's fine.

so if we are put in a class together this year
so if i bump into you in the hallway
so if you try to talk to me

i will be fine.

sure i might freeze for a second and wonder

"what the fuck are YOU doing?!"

and i might step away from you
out of fear of my own fist extending
and
'accidentally'
breaking your face

and i might just turn around and walk away.

all i know is

i will
NOT

be controlled
be brought down
be hurt
be scarred

by you.

and i hope
i pray
i wish with all my being

that i never fall subject to anyone like you
ever
again.

i am changed because of you,
yes,
but i don't want to be changed like
that
again.

i am better now because of you,
yes,
but i don't ever want myself to think
that going through what you put me through
will make me better in the future.

i am over it.
i'm over you.

and i
am
glad.
proud.
happy.

*an oak tree sapling on her way to the sky, stretching her leaves out to all those broken flowers around her looking for a way out, for help, for something stronger than the bee trying to bring them down.

i am here for you. *

-just a happy flower, no longer suicidal,

yet covered with scars reminding me

of the fights and battles and wars

i have

won.