But don’t you try to wipe your tears with your dry skin –
Wearing the look of sorrow; your eyes standing mannequin
Could we be like a white lotus; holding the waters of life
Waiting to come out from the womb of the world?

My bones are a pacing cold, under the warmth of the sun
The city runs dark; watching tired dogs chasing after cars
I’m counting all of my scars; pulling weeds from my yard –
I spat a seed into the ground, waiting on a feast to grow

Where I was a Rose…with

Spores of thorns, to push away those who hurt me before
Placing most of our dreams high above – we own the skies
We owe the world none of our tears, but it loves to see us cry
And at times it feels better, just being silent most of the time
To watch all that happens, to learn, and then advise …

But I too, must learn to take up my own advice.

You're A Flower,
The water you consume in the daytime waiting for the nighttime molding you inside, Thats A flower,

The amount of sun that you get when you're out all alone with your feet in the grass,
Thats A Flower,

From the products you put in your hair to the things that you eat making you look young,
You're A Flower,

Being of light you sustain happiness , Don't surround yourself with negative stems,
Girl you're a flower,

Thats A Flower,
That's A Flower,
You're A Flower,
Girl thats a flower.

We must all be the flower that grows for a new dawn,
For a new country,
For  a new world,
Who cares for greed and money.
We don't need a president,  we don't need capitalism,  the dead leaves that need to be
cut Off , yes indeed.

There’s an apocalypse in my eyes – but I’ll only get to see it when
I die; for the moment of my demise. Bring back the day; for I am
acutely aware that time runs its course, on an endless mile – an
infinite stretch. It pains me to don a fake smile, yet it appears
simpler when they insist, I haven’t worn it in a while.

I’m a lot happier inside!

I have a few events scripted, priming my heart for people’s let-downs,
and my disappointments – when you’re ready to face a torrent of
hurt, you find yourself anchored, awaiting their appointments.

Pain is faceless!

The past lingers with a relentless patience, ever eager to unveil how
you did it wrong – in the garden of life, regrets sprout like stubborn
weeds. Do tend to your plot, and sow the seeds of every lesson
learned, and hope wisdom grows.

You’ve been the prettiest flower all along!

She is that flower in pinkish-red hems
Blooming amidst the silent, withered stems;
She does not need any grace of water,
But pleased to tears that have fallen over

My hand trembles, I cannot pluck her roots—
She's too precious to be in worn-out boots;
Though it hurts, I'll hope there's a gardener
Who'll place her where light shines a bit kinder.

As the flower blooms.
The stillness in the air
Breaks with each petal
As it springs free in the spring
air
This is what I live for
             Focus  on the flower
            Breaking the silence of the
            Hate in the world
              Think  about being the flower
                Let your kindness shine through
For the world is Topsy turvy

A flower.
So pretty and pink.
Free to roam.
Met a light blue one.
The light blue was the only other kind she's met.
Pink fell for Blue's Charm.
Time passed on.
Pink and Blue made a little pastel purple.
Pink is distressed.
Blue keeps wanting to leave.
Pink wonders if she should just end it all.
Pink is tired and feels alone.
Pink just wants peace.
Maybe Pink should find her peace.
So Pink takes a knife and leaves.
Blue never knew.
Blue went to look for Pink an hour later.
All he saw was Pink in the back yard.
On the ground withering away.
Bleeding out slowly.
Blue took her into his arms one last time.
Pink looked at him.
She said. "I love you Blue."
She closed her eyes and floated to peace.
Blue lost Pink.
Blue lost his hope in life.
His dream.
Pastel Purple.
He didn't get to be a father.
He went to find the same knife Pink used.
He stabbed himself.
Laid next to Pink and Purple.
Closing his eyes wrapped around her.
Bleeding out.
A flower.
So pretty and pink.
Dainted in red and sorrow.

Rose blood red,
Pricked my finger,
Now the feeling's trapped in my head.

I think it felt okay,
But that's not okay,
I'll save my silly thoughts,
So you know I'm okay.

Set upon a walk I did,
Through my hometown,
Silent in the cold.

And as I walked as I did,
I passed by such a mortal sight,
A garden dead,
Which once bloomed in twilight.

And shed a tear I did,
Yet of sadness not,
For I know new flowers will bloom again.