A Collection of Personal Poems and Lyrical Laments

Flower Thief

I am a rose.

I rarely show up in the same gardens, knowing better than to feed off of soil that I've been cut from a second time.

I've tried to learn which gardens are the best for me; which soils are ideal, what kind of flowers I thrive around, even what habitats are the best for me and my blooming.

But ever time my petals finally curl apart and reveal my many layers, someone comes along an plucks me, sentencing me to months upon months of withering and suffering.

Sometimes I bloom right after, but my soul often freezes in the air, forcing me to wallow in my mournful misery.

My next blossom makes me feel like the one who watered me could be the one that takes care of me forever.

But then that thief that's addicted to cutting roses down in their prime comes along and ruins it.

They slice into me with clippers made of insecurities and overreactions and force me to go through another heart-wrenching death, just to bloom anew in another's garden.

I am a rose that has been killed and maimed by the same flower thief for years.

But the worst thing is...

This flower thief is me.

~Ty