She wants to be a rose.
Not just any kind of rose, the kind of rose that people stop to admire.
A bright red rose that catches everyone’s attention and leaves their mouth agape.
A rose with big red petals and everything in the perfect place.
The petals have the perfect curves and size.
The rose, a perfect bloom.
Even though she knows she might get picked or torn.
Used.
She still wants to be a rose.
But she is not a rose.
She is a dead **** no one wants.
Something people throw away and don't think about twice.
She
Is
Nothing.

Death came to me one day
He cornered me and gave me his hand
I tried to escape but I had no strength
So I reached out and accepted it
He took me to a land
A land far and wide
A place as hot as the desert sand
Flames all around me my flesh burning as I stand

I hear the screams of the other sinners
Burning with me too
Asking for forgiveness, but it’s too late now
I’m melting
I want it to end
But for what I did it will never end.
Never.

(Noun) Heartsick for my Sanctuary.
Yearning for its call.
Oh how I wish to go back but I am weak and incapable to face my sins.
For a split second, I enter the back of my mind
and open everything I wished to forget.
Everything I thought was locked, is now free.
But why do I feel trapped?
I try.
I try.
I try.
But I can't.
It clings on to me like a ball and chain enclosed on my ankle.
The memories silently flood down my face.
The pleasing, the bitter and the horrid.
Heartsick for my sanctuary.
Yearning for its call.
But I can't go back.
Not Now.
Not Ever

I am quiet and loud.
I wonder why they put up their armor when I am present.
I hear a million pitter-patters whispering.
I see the world crashing into me.
I want to be free every day.
I am life.
I give life.
I can't control myself so sometimes I get out of hand.
I feel my heart drop as I'm falling further and further towards the ground.
I touch the hearts of the open-minded souls.
I worry that I will never be loved.
I cry because I do so much yet receive very little.
I am a shower that brings flowers.
I understand why I am not loved.
I dream of a place where my cold aroma is enjoyed by all.
I am quiet and loud.