I used to walk in a dense fog in a frigidly cold night.
I walked blindly without a clue of where I was going or when I was going to stop
I walked for miles not realizing that the sticks and stones beneath my feet
Were cutting me deeply as I walked past
At first, it was easy to ignore
But then the cuts started to hurt more and more
Then as I kept walking I started to limp
And then a limp turned into a shuffle
Then a shuffle turned into crawling
I cried for help as I moved along my hands and knees still being cut by razor sharp rocks
And at the last stretch of this terrible forest of blood and tears
I found a flower
Then I stayed there for a while adoring the beauty of the flower as my wounds began to heal