soliloquy

Seeds

Seeds. 

The begining of everything. Something that sprouts beautiful flowers or majestic trees, something that is thrown into a pit of soil, survives harsh winters and blooms into an extrodinary sight. It takes my breath away. 

I have tons of seeds. Scattered everywhere on the soil around my tree house. Some are begining to grow, their tiny buds and fragile petals inches away from blooming. 

I wish somebody threw seeds at the cracks of my heart so I can sprout beautiful things. 

Unfortunetly, life doesn't work out that way. 

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Some girls have bags of weed.

Some girls have bags of dirt. 

Some girls have bags of clothes. 

But I am a girl, 

Who has a bag of seeds,

Ready to bloom,

Eternally. 

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It strikes me how flowers grow. 

From the smallest bud, it grows and grows to the tallest trees or the most exotic flowers. It's so beautiful, it reminds me of humans. Except, not all humans grow beautiful. 

Like me, for example. 

I have an ugly heart and an ugly soul. Empty and cracked. No traces of life, no traces of daisies sprouting from the large holes. And it hurts, it really hurts. 

Sometimes I walk around and leave a trail of rose seeds. If I retrace my steps and water them, a few weeks later, they grow into roses in a neat line. Theres tons of them all around the forest, my footsteps becoming seeds that grow into roses. 

It's nice by the way, until winter comes. Harsh and bitter. 

But the snow gathers on the petals of the roses, and everything is frozen like a wonderland full of snow. And it's beautiful really, because there is always something beautiful in ugly things. The naked, twisted trees are beautiful because they are strong, strong enough to survive throughout the winter. 

I wish I was like that. 

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"Kind sir, my name is Seeds. Pray tell, what is yours?"