If I were a flower
I'd be a single timid bud,
shying away from bloom;
refusing to unfold my trembling petals.
I'd be the bud of a rose,
turning my back at opportunities of bloom
even when the sun shined invitingly.
I'd be the flower
that was stuck in an omnipresent state of frost,
causing me to disintegrate  into nothing,
but a pile of remorse