sorrow i am with broken hands and cannot mend, i look to myself, in my self and my past within. i see burn marks from fires laid, and cannot un marr the wood, i feel pain inside from debts, in myself paid, from thoughts remembered and what i should have done. i learn and am sad, my flower in the wind. i never enough watered or let sunlight in. i die to think of growing strenght within through insight and how i should have been, but my flower withered by me, will not ever know.