It
It’s something that should be cared for. Loved on, Treasured, Shared, Trusted, Warm, Soft, Known. This life has taken it, Mutilated, Shoved aside, Criticized, Used, Abandoned it. It’s been taken, Deceivingly nurtured, abused, crushed, and torn. Pieces are scattered, bleed to ash. One tries to hold it together, Pick up the pieces, fix it; Tears leak through cracks, Ash becomes clay. Clay that is remolded, over and over. Clay that is never put in the kiln. Clay that can’t be taken, decorated upon, made anew. It’s been locked up, chained; it’s secrets. It can’t face it, it hates it, Others can’t see it, they don’t noticed it. It’s hidden under fears, hurts... For others, it’s there. It loves them, cares for them. They, reap the benefits of the broken it. The one bearing it, doesn’t. It gives and never receives. Like a fallen rose, worms crawl, ravage it. Roses that keep giving and never receiving. Roses that are beautiful, passersby’s never glance, It waits, longs, weeps. It’s adventurous, brave, scared, found, then, abandoned. It’s mark, it leaves on them, their mark is a new slice. A new fallen petal. Trying to keep it from falling, from wilting, from dying. It’s been choked, weeds curling ‘round it’s neck. Being devoured, unnoticed. It continues, worthless, without understanding why. When, it has so much to offer. So much to give. So much trying to give. Let the soft, meddlesome, cold, earth give back, to the petals. Let some nutrients feed it. Let it re-grow, mend, live. Please. For it, is my heart.
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~Denyse
Btw don't steal? I wrote ^.^
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