Spring time dew drips onto a blossoming bud
Each a piece of sustenance for a growing life
Enchanted by a combination of mere light
It starts to sprout leaves and stand firm.

They exclaimed of the beauty of a poppy
I knew little on flowers nor its effect
For all I could see did not reflect
the true art of growing a flower.

I watched the flower open up;
it's petal pushed pride upon its stem
But I knew little on flowers once again
And all I could see held no value.

The flower spoke to me by the breeze
A gentle aroma to remind me to 'open up'
and most nights, a poem is merely close enough
But coated words can only confuse the soul.

So I open up to you

You who have told me to **** myself
As though you build a life raft
and with blinding rage labeled it help
only to ever refuse me a seat.
You told me I was dressed like a furniture
as though wood and fabric could ever
equate to the spirit and soul of a man,
because the soul of a man can grow infinite
And in that brief second, that brief minute
your words left your mouth; you fired artillery
a mistaken hatred poured from your lips
to those who may have unshapely hips
to those who found it harder to deal with you
than it was to sit a ******* calculus exam.
...
It didn't have to be this way;
you didn't have to find those things to say,
as though the way I'm dressed
was only ever meant to impressed blind hearts
so you found time to tear me apart
just because I had on clothes that did not match yours
nor did dress as though I was built to mop floors
but I dressed as I liked.
I dressed as I liked
And after meeting you
an infinite closet
became minimised to
'Maybe I'll just stay inside'
and life became an everyday game of
hide and seek where those hiding
didn't really know what they were hiding from.
I've seen your smile as I let out a single sigh
between broken words, you tainted my spirit
And you burned fires with something fierce.
'I did not get hurt by your words',
I'll tell myself over and over
hoping that maybe this chapter has a closure
so I awake to every morning, avoiding your stares
hoping that you weren't there
because out of all the places you could be
you demolished your way into my world
and fired trajectories of hate only to ever make one mistake
you never really took the time to know me.

Those words didn't hurt me...
I kept telling myself that...
And those artillery made no impact...
I kept telling myself that...
hoping that none of it were true
that you were wrong
because out of all the pain I felt
it all originated from you.

I didn't know I was supposed to cry at a joke
...