wilted
was the way i felt
trampled on
never knew why
i have always been
compared to a flower
delicate
is what people
thought of me
yet i didn't
feel as delicate
as they swore i was
a long last day
of hopes tarnished
that seemed to never end
closed with
a sense of regret
and melancholy
withered
was the way i felt
in front of the mirror
not the
blush coloured beauty
i was often called
a long last day
of hopes tarnished
that seemed to never end
suddenly
ceased as i
opened a familiar door
blossom!
blossom!
blossom!
and with
the last petals
clinging to my stem
i closed the door
with my heart set on
one last goal:
someday, i will once again bloom
