I have not fully bloomed.
I do not know what a true, bloomed flower looks like.
When I was born, I was protected in a brown encasing.
Appointed to the people I called parents, in a place I called home.
They were my guardians and my lovers.
Even when I began to began to sprout and grow a green stem, they still surrounded me with love.
That is, until my first bud began to grow.
When I was thinking of budding, the protection around my foundation broke.
The once-brown casing had cracked and broken as my two guardians.
I try to straighten myself and grab at the brown outline.
But it is hollow and breaking.
My roots begin to grow beneath me and I cling onto what is left of my lovers.
My roots reaches soil and even though I feel broken, I feel amazing. My bud grew, despite my uncertainty since my protection abandoned me.
Just when I had grown more buds and about to bloom my first flower, my roots hit some bad soil.
The soil was dry and cracked: my roots grow no longer.
The rain had eased and my soil was lackluster.
I begged for the rain to come back, I prayed for it to heal my dying and drying roots.
And as I waited, I began to wilt.
Weeks went by and I continued to wilt.
My once pink colour had been tainted brown.
My leaves had turned a bark brown, scrunched into a violent, compressed form.
Even my powerful stem had succumbed to weariness and could no longer stand tall.
There was nothing else I could do but wait.
Wait for the rain to come.
And then, I saw a sight that I couldn't recognize.
I was shaded from the sun's rays by a grey apparition.
I felt a trickle slide across my form and felt another in my soil.
Oh, wondrous day!
The rain had come at last!
I savored every moment of that rain, that glorious, wonderful thing!
I felt revived and anew.
Oh, beautiful day!
Using every bit of the renewed soil and water, my bud was reawakened.
Slowly, I pressed a petal back little by little.
I took my time to do it right.
My first flower, I had to do it right.
Underneath, I had kept the struggle inside.
But now, it was time I show how happy I really am, inside and out.
That was when I bloomed for the first time.
And it was worth the pain.
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 2:38 AM UTC
I have not fully bloomed.
I do not know what a true, bloomed flower looks like.
When I was born, I was protected in a brown encasing.
Appointed to the people I called parents, in a place I called home.
They were my guardians and my lovers.
Even when I began to began to sprout and grow a green stem, they still surrounded me with love.
That is, until my first bud began to grow.
When I was thinking of budding, the protection around my foundation broke.
The once-brown casing had cracked and broken as my two guardians.
I try to straighten myself and grab at the brown outline.
But it is hollow and breaking.
My roots begin to grow beneath me and I cling onto what is left of my lovers.
My roots reaches soil and even though I feel broken, I feel amazing. My bud grew, despite my uncertainty since my protection abandoned me.
Just when I had grown more buds and about to bloom my first flower, my roots hit some bad soil.
The soil was dry and cracked: my roots grow no longer.
The rain had eased and my soil was lackluster.
I begged for the rain to come back, I prayed for it to heal my dying and drying roots.
And as I waited, I began to wilt.
Weeks went by and I continued to wilt.
My once pink colour had been tainted brown.
My leaves had turned a bark brown, scrunched into a violent, compressed form.
Even my powerful stem had succumbed to weariness and could no longer stand tall.
There was nothing else I could do but wait.
Wait for the rain to come.
And then, I saw a sight that I couldn't recognize.
I was shaded from the sun's rays by a grey apparition.
I felt a trickle slide across my form and felt another in my soil.
Oh, wondrous day!
The rain had come at last!
I savored every moment of that rain, that glorious, wonderful thing!
I felt revived and anew.
Oh, beautiful day!
Using every bit of the renewed soil and water, my bud was reawakened.
Slowly, I pressed a petal back little by little.
I took my time to do it right.
My first flower, I had to do it right.
Underneath, I had kept the struggle inside.
But now, it was time I show how happy I really am, inside and out.
That was when I bloomed for the first time.
And it was worth the pain.
