Emotions like the petals of a daisy-
Were pulled from me unwillingly
In a “she loves me”, “she loves me not”
Self-mutilation that left me vulnerable and bare,
And remembering the beauty that I was
While regretting what I have become,
As the last petal of emotion lies withering
On the ground with no definitive answers found
And the damage done - irreversible.
But I can find some comfort in knowing
That this is just one season of death,
And soon a rebirth will reinstate me
To my former glory with not as much
As a scar on the outside to remind the world
Of the battle that was raged on so fragile a creation,
Reminding me that I am alive and not superficial
Or made of plastic with artificial emotions and feelings,
And I would gladly suffer death again to feel alive.
Ron