My sister, no matter what you did I will still love you
Trees flashed, my heart broken, ears dead to the shouts for me to come back, betrayal runs through me, eyes watery, throat burning, stopping to feel the last rose she gave me, tasting the tears she gave me, putting my shirt to my nose to smell that familiar perfume she wears knowing that she’s never coming back.
Suddenly fire runs through me making me dash down the road again still holding the treasure in my hand. I stop at my house going back inside, ignoring the yells that’s coming from my parents room. There it is the picture frame of her looking so peaceful and yet deep down inside she dieing from the pills she’s poppin. After days, weeks, months of being dead I finally leave my room heading towards the bathroom as I enter I notice a reddish, blackish looking thing in my trashben. I pick it up looking at it, then it hits me. It’s my treasure. My rose. I was so mad, sad, heartbroken that I forgot I threw it away. As I examine it I can’t help but notice how different it looks it not its beautiful self anymore it’s this black fragile little thing, it looks so broken. my rose is broken. Then as I look at myself I can’t help but compare myself to it. So many simularities it’s unbelievably.
As I lay my head down that night I realize something, I’m not my gold, happy going self anymore. I have black spots all over like my rose. I’ve become my broken rose.
I wrote this poem because your loved ones always think your okay and fine but yet their blind to what their brain is telling them. if only they listen to their heart they will notice the difference in you like your voice, eyes, mood, smile. If only they would stop and have a really good look at you , but yet that never happens even if they do notice and ask" are you okay" and you say" yes" but it's a lie and they will never know the truth because your afraid too sound weak. But the truth is (if you read this) YOUR NOT WEAK your the strongest person out there it just takes a strong person to notice....