One by one
My petals fell
And I gradually
Became a weed

My beautiful flower
That blossomed and bloomed
Wilted over the seasons
That you controlled

I thrived through spring
Flourished in the summer
Drooped in the fall
And faded into nothing in the winter

A rose full of life
Vivid with color
Became an eye sore
Amongst the other flowers

Now I am nothing
But a useless, ugly weed
Deprived of life and love
And from my only sun

Romie Shaked
Romie Shaked
Jun 9, 2013

                                    as the flowers wilted
so did my love
                          for you
and you were thrown away
                and forgotten about
                                                           until the new you came along


May 18

he called me his flower
and he was my sun
but now the clouds have come
and i am

#love   #nature  
Amanda Jerry
Amanda Jerry
Jul 20, 2013      Jul 21, 2013

I can feel my hopelessness in my legs
They’re all sort of settled, sinking into the bed like logs into soft loam
burrowed into by all manner of insects,
hardening their tongues into little tubes and sucking out my flesh with a mighty slurp.
I have found that I exist in a perpetual sigh
apart from every once in a while, when I pause to eat and sleep and watch a car go by with one headlight out at 12:53 in the morning.
Well, what shall we do with a drunken sailor?
I whisper some heathen's prayer that this gross longing originates somewhere outside of myself. I have to find a wall far away and break it down. I don’t want to get trapped under my own rubble anymore. Better to be drowned than crushed.

And as I stagnate here
by my own devices

I envy
their ignorance

Bailey C Walter
Jun 7, 2011

In this unconscionable soul rests a being
Void of knowledge, yet engaging in life
He has become stranded in his path
Nevertheless, he knows where to go, but reluctantly does not follow

The inability to stick with his logic has become a downfall
Blinded by the subtleness of repetition
He continues, unsurprised
Caught up in his unrequited lust for more

Sometimes, however, he finds truth in the greatest parts of his life
But instantly the figure appears, blinding
The figure haunts his memory
As dark as it is, he refuses to release it

Some unknown burden holds him closely
Entangled from years of darkness
Is it possible to even discover light?
Or is he eternally traveling with bloodless hands, outstretched in potential?

I find myself only able to whisper softly among the screams echoing in his head
Is it worth your life?
Without this burden you can truly find yourself
Can’t you see what it has made you?

Nothing more than a spec of dust in the ground
Worthless, beaten down by others
He placed himself in this state
Continuing to wander, as he desires
Hoping that in his brokenness he can bring life to something
The only influence he has is the darkness that consumes his soul

At one moment was change possible
Yet once again he has turned away
To find his worth in the loneliness of states
Unable to find redemption in his hollow face

a wilting rose
Jenna Gibson
Jenna Gibson
Oct 9, 2012

The moon,
a wilting rose
with light frost sprinkled on it.

The petals gently flit away
drifting onto the crisp snow below

He loves me,
He loves me not,
He loves me,
He loves me not,
He loves me,
He loves me not,
Until only a bare stem remains

A new moon has risen:
a rose that once burst with red vibrance,
now just a crooked stem,
plucked and abandoned in the snow

and my soul wilting
Aug 25, 2013

I live (survive)
feeling worthless 
for after a while
I run out of reasons
excuses to feel worthy
exemplary of feeling anything
except the numbness
and my soul wilting 
like fallen leaves in autumn 
without the beauty

that I was a wilting flower
Nov 19, 2013

My mother once told me
that I was a wilting flower
who refused to drink water
She said I never let in the people
who love me and instead only went
for the people who never would

Maybe shes right
I don't know whats wrong with me
I only want the people I now will
one day leave

She had the most beautiful bronze skin tone.
Her eyes looked as if they were topaz jewels surrounded by puddles of chocolate.
She was a beautiful flower.

She never liked the Fall.
It was always a season that she strayed away from.
The Fall caused far too many memories and disappointments for both
Her and her loved ones, so they just learned to forget the seasonal changes that occur and moved on.

The crisp wind that whistled through the treetops in the Fall
Often evoked the pain of the constant wheezing she did at night.
Her hair fell out--- much like brown leaves always fall from the top of
Tree branches emerging under the sun.
The hard, brown tree bark cracks--- much like her dry, shattered skin cracks in this season.

In the Fall, dark shadows often reminded her of the jagged silhouette of what a
Demon like Cancer would look like if the disease were human.
She tried to keep hope, to keep faith, because she knew
That Cancer had taken far too many women in her family to their grave already,
But it always seemed like it wasn't enough.
She never liked this season, because in the Fall, flowers wilt.

True Story.
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