Desires feeding our souls

Gnawing and eating our flesh, until we're a vulnerable flush red

Our pores exude the confident strife

A conflict that should have never arrived

To resurface our skin, bring back the childhood mind

I still see the eight-year-old awkwardness,
holding a staple makeshift poetry book and pen

The young struggling mind, when dying was simple to find

Daily I walk into the aroma of the sunlight

Intricately snipping roses off their vines, soaking in their beauty as my fingers sting and bleed

A decade incomplete

She never stopped being a victim long enough to realize her heart was revitalized, made into an equal whole

A rose petals thirst satisfied

No insignificant being

She was now a family