I am a flower.

In the spring I come to life.
Full of joy, yet struggling still.
Coming out of winter, just need some time to grow.
I'll be fine, soon I'll be great.
I just need some time.

In the summer, I bloom.
Never happier, the most carefree I'll ever be.
Winter just a distant memory, slowly forgotten.
I'm great, never better.
I've got all the time in the world.

In the fall, I wilt.
Slowly I fade, my worries grow.
My only companion, endless melancholy.
I'm getting worse, say I'm fine.
I wish I didn't have anymore time.

In the winter, I die.
Can't see the end, the beginning a distant memory.
I dream of tomorrow, and scream when it comes.
I say I'm okay, never better.
I've run out of time.

The cycle repeats, year after year.
Losing track, just know it's always been this way.
Waiting for the year it ends, one way or another.
I'm alright though, I'm just fine.
The flower has all the time in the world, yet none at all.