I am a weeping willow,
Still growing where I'm planted.
This should be a peaceful existence,
But I am forced to choose
Between the sun and the rain.
Which is more important?
The showers that nurture me,
Or the bright rays that ignite a fire in me?
YOU ARE READING
Lost
PoetryWe all get lost sometimes. Take this journey with me, because we may be lost, but we don't have to do it alone. *Trigger Warning*
