I wait for my eyes to bloom
So I could see the noon in a different hue
Despite this, I felt incoming doom
The world is painted in the same shades
From day-to-day, it was the only thing that remains
Nothing occurred to make it change
But what good was there
When I was scared
I only saw the blossoming that was ensuing everywhere
Soft sprouting petals take upon these shapes
As if it was trying to escape
The purpose behind breaking out appears opaque
Struggling to penetrate through the ground, it flourishes
Pointed thorns that pierced the past, so it perishes
Wanting to bloom in different ways like us
Slowly I feel my throat get wrapped around
Constraining all sound
Nothing was allowed
Flowers that strive for perfection
Will wilt in dissatisfaction
Remembering life as a contradiction
So why do we try to pick out the weeds?
Why do we make ourselves bleed?
Is it worth it for perfection that only we believe?
Why is it so difficult to accept such shifts?
Change isn't something that is easily dismissed
Yet something so impactful is hard to accept as a gift
Should I accept it
Or try to resist
Leaves can only fall in my head till I pick
One day I can confine
That I will have roots of my own at some point in time
A flower of my mind