Roots
My life is like a dying flower.
So much promise, so much hope.
Meant to be beautiful, for all to see.
Instead, its only frail and wilted,
Dying from the inside out, trying to act alive.
Trying to pretend all is good,
Petals brown and fragile, just like my heart.
Stem soft and pliable, same as my mind.
Roots run deep, but not long enough to keep me alive.
No one to water me, to feed me, keep me alive.
I just want to be the flower I was meant to be.
I just want to bloom for all to see.
But instead I stand here fragile, soft and pliable.
Waiting... waiting for the gust of wind to end it all, blow me away into the distance.
All but forgotten, all but hardly missed.
Someone give me water, someone give me care, someone mend my fragile petals, harden my softened stem and most of all strengthen my deep roots.
Let them reach the rich soil, the soil that breathes new life.
Your roots are always there, its up to you to strengthen them, to help them help you.
Where are my roots?
(2012)
I wrote this when I was in a self righteous pity party
