If I were a flower...
Having died however long prior,
I would then smell just as nice
As the day I first opened up?  

Would I  be allergic to my own pollen?

How terrifyingly huge a bumble bee would seem.

If I were a flower...

I sing to the night private melodies
Cause they help me
Yes, they help me
Through my ways.

And there is a weight
Such a weight I hold
Pressing down, always down
My ways, my ways
Each day, every day

Silent melodies,
Take away my ways

I am, can be...
Not right here,
And not right now...
Much more than I've ever
owned up to.
I can be above even the lowest
Those are moments
And those moments are down there.
I will continue to climb.
Ahead to the very top of
The mountains of my life.
To the greatest of beyonds
Well above my lowest lows
So much higher than right here.
Live my life, doing right in my life
I will climb from the dark to the light.
I will, I am, I will climb.

As my venturing continues,
Yet once more unto to the depths.
My senses mean nothing,
All I feel is not physical, it is not.
Though I feel my heart crushing
The broken parts collapsing in.
I remind myself  this
Hurt has happened before
I did not die, I will not this time.
As I feel wetness roll
loose of my unfocused eyes.
Let them, it is my salve
My acceptance made real
They represent the new memories
I know I'll never get, and am only letting go.
I will be fine, as the world now lost and
All around is dark to and loneliness
Calls to have it's audience for

A beat behind the first rays
Of a sun that beacons me
Foretelling of a day
That day has come already?
Now rise I tell myself
At best half heartedly
My shell, aches, acts automatically
Giving the helmsman precious seconds
To toil, to toil, on to back breaking.
To toil, to toil, beneath the sun
To the fields, to the heat, for coin
And for food to eat.
I stand and stretch, following my feet
To toil, for the imaginary proof
Of currency, that I might live,
And I might eat, beneath a roof
Upon a world, that made me.
I get up and I face the day.