when we are born
we are pure
unharmed
untouched
so innocent

same as a flower

as we grow older
we begin to blossom
our roots begin to grow
we start to sprout

we live a little
as a beautiful innocent thing
we stand tall
we stand sprouted

but someone always comes around
and tears off our petals
turning us to be
not as beautiful as before
on the outside

but someone comes around also
and carefully picks the flower
and cherishes it
even if it isn't as beautiful
as it was before

that person still sees the goodness in it
its still a flower
it used to be beautiful
but it still stands strong

we all die
as a wilted flower
not as pure
not as innocent
but still a beautiful flower