My flower
is not beautiful
it has weathered over years
the first hands to touch it
bruised it with fears

My flower
is Not Innocent
over time it grew thorns
many of manhood it has
unapologetically torn

My flower
is not vibrant
petals have been plucked
what remains is dull
And covered in muck

However,
Rejoice

My flower
is still growing
Learning to water it daily
Reaching for the cosmos
And becoming heavenly.