I am a delicate flower in the midst of fiery winter.
I am the gust of wind that brushes through the trees.
I am a cold burst of water that chills you to the bone.
I am the solid brick wall which beyond no one sees.

I am stuck up, I am humble.
I am weak, I am strong.
I am timid, I’m outgoing.
I’m veracious, I am wrong.

And though I can’t undo the shadows of a shallow heart,
And though I can’t reveal a window to the deepest sea,
And though I don’t know where we are or how the rain should fall,
The roses either bloom with life or wash away the tree.

If forgiveness isn’t in the cards,
The quiet stillness reigns.
I’ll always know the deep desires
Of this messed up game.

*I forfeit,
For I am better than this.