I once compared myself to a flower,
But flowers seem to wither apart.
They cannot withstand the cold,
Nor can they endure a dark heart.

Flowers exhibit fragility like nothing else,
And that is how I viewed myself.
Looking back on my life, now,
I see the sins I have kept on a shelf.

I see the things I have hidden from the world,
The traits that sleep deep inside of me.
Attributes of which I should be ashamed,
Truths I will never set free.

The monster which taunted me,
It has left a blatant mark.
Pulling me so close,
And placing its hand upon my heart.

I fear that is what I have become,
Not a flower, nor a part of nature at all.
The changes that I have made,
They have led me to my downfall.