She wasn't meant to live long.
Like a flower for a season- bringing joy and beauty.
As fall came, her outer appearance began to show what she was feeling inside, and slowly she wilted away.
The process was so slow, that those around her barely noticed.
It wasn't until her petals fell that her loved ones turned their attention, but there was nothing they could do.
No amount of life would preserve the fate of her own.
She wasn't meant to live long, she wasn't meant to grow old.
Her wrists bled out hot, and her bloom shrunk away cold. The joy left her eyes, and they became glass mirrors reflecting different characters.
Cold showers of tears pelted her stem and drenched her roots- drowning her day by day. Eventually, she learned to live without breathing.
Now tell me, how is this possible?
Light hurt her senses, and joy burned her heart. She became addicted to the feeling she had created for herself.
All it took was the coldness of the world, leaking inside her- stealing her joy and leaving her to cope on her own.
It took others choking the life out of her- all until she had nothing left to give.
It took love leaving her, to crush her heart and show her trusting is for fools.
No one loves a wilted flower- drained of its bloom.
Who could love a wilted flower...
about to seal her doom?
