Withering in Bloom | Teen Ink

Withering in Bloom

April 26, 2021
By unichama GOLD, Buffalo Grove, Illinois
unichama GOLD, Buffalo Grove, Illinois
10 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
Thoughts are boxes; people are spheres. One may view a box from at most six angles, while spheres are constrained only by infinity—yet, those living within humanity's limits prefer to put spheres in boxes rather than to recognize their individuality. If a psychic epidemic were to once again, we can ascertain that humanity will look the other way in favor of mundane things rather than that and those surrounding us. The biggest dream is that which is not realized.


A withered flower,

A lonely shower,

One,

Two, 

Three,

I refuse to be.


Suddenly, out of nowhere,

Calling out to me, so shamelessly,

Who do you think you are?

Are you that stupid? I’m broken; I’m scarred—


A blade of grass,

A crimson glass,

The pain I mask,

Your useless “facts,”

You see, my dear,

These fears are mirrored.


I wish to disappear—


A useless life is,

One,

Two,

Three,

A devil’s kiss,

A foolish wish—

Can you not see what you’ve done to me?


I didn’t ask for this; 

I was born with it.


Cynicality much?

You flinch at my touch.

Lying? I’m living—

Aren’t I “existing?”

Tell me the meaning—

Why am I breathing?

I don’t feel your “love;”

There isn’t any thereof.


I’ll be happy, right?

My chest, growing tight,

I put up a fight—

No, I’ll never survive.


In tears, hesitating,

This world; ever-changing,

My time with you—

There is none remaining—


The painting is torn.


Why was I born?


“This is my duty,”

I cry out, fruitily,


The sun-kissed reality:

A brutal fatality,

And yet, your confusion,

My painful conclusion,

This stupid mentality—


Can we still reach duality?


I’m covered in mud, 

Yet I’m high, up above,

As pure as the moon,

As white as a dove,

One, 

Two, 

Three,

I’m finally free—


I’m sorry, my dear,

I’ve had enough,

For, what we had;

What has not begun,

Throughout the years,

It became too much,

Now, I can see—


That it was not “love”.


The author's comments:

One may interpret this piece however they'd like, but a final bloom in death will remain beautiful either way. The realization that someone is not as they seem is painful but also freeing—in the end, it is not what they say but how they show it.

I wrote this for no particular person, therefore it is everyone's, so please treat it with care. 

Thank you.


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This article has 1 comment.


Hex SILVER said...
on Jan. 3 at 11:05 pm
Hex SILVER, Raleigh, North Carolina
6 articles 2 photos 29 comments

Favorite Quote:
“Homework is like medicine.... If you take too much, it can kill you,”

Not me over here relating to this more than I'm related to my family O.O