What’s left of me?
Who am I becoming?
It feels as if I’m almost devolving.
A flower whose petals has been picked apart.
Don’t get me started because I don’t know what’s left of my heart.
If only I could learn how to bloom to be truly me.
But this life is deceiving and I’m always lost without a key.
So what’s left in this sequence, I can’t even see.
So I guess I’ll just keep trying to unfurl into a better me.