Cruel world to be a flower -
And to know that the water bends the stone,
Your fragile soul is something i worry for..
I know you’re strong, and you know better.
But my dear, i know truths we hide from you.
I worry for you– You little chil!
My sweet little flower, this world is not your heaven.
They walk on the likes of you and me. Crushing.
Our lives are of the likes of the three flowered maples
You and i, are not ever green...
Come time we need to allow our broken pieces to mend–
Come time we need to bloom against the strom!
In time we need to armour, grow thorns–
We cant be daisies of the dandelion fairies.
Grow my flower, into a wild bush of roses!
Let there be armour, but dont loose your elegance.
Let that blood red bloom in the whitest of snow.
My love. Humanity is not worth relying on.
Have faith in what you put your trust in–
Not strangers!
This world is no longer a playground, but just another war field.
And you and I are victims to hypocrisy and insanity!
Days are approaching and i feel this dire need to speak to you..
Words i wish to utter to your face only glare at you through my eyes...
And once again i ask you ‘how was school?’
With my all my attention looking for any form of hesitation in response–
My eliza, i’ll know even if you dont speak.
But speak to me, im here if you ever need m!
This world is cruel, and i’m miles away helpless
I fear, and with an acute tremble in my voice
I gather the courage, in hopes that everything is fine.
I ask you once again.. ‘ so, How was school? ’
Oh what a cruel time to be aliv!
So many fears boil behind in the agony
for what is supposed to be a simple reply by a chil!
I crave, and i pray that there would be excitement in those eyes and not fear–
A happy cheer to share her queer adventures–
She said this—and he did that—nothing wrong!
Just childish play. I hope and pray!
My heart aches anxiously in this simple conversation with my little neice–
Oh what a cruel world to be a flower!
