Skip to main content

A Symbol Of Change

There is a small red flower
With crimson in it's leaf
And copper stems, so strong and fine
It gives me some relief

This flower is not special
I've seen many in my time
But the reason that I got it
Is far more special than it's design

It needs a little water
But how it does give me fright
When the petals start their falling
I fear it will fall from sight

But now I know it's clever
Because it can do just one great thing
If, at all, it's petals fall
Then a new blossom, it will bring

And it doesn't have to be in red
I've heard navy looks quite nice
Maybe turquoise, or an autumn brown
Or I could just use wine red twice?

But what it is, is not what's special
It's what it does, That I hold dear
A symbol that is different
So that a new change can be made clear

So, I brought in a small red flower
And it sits, perfectly on show
Because I am certain I will change my life
And it will help me, that I know.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Dedication to a Crush

You know, I've often wondered What you see when I'm around. Do you see uniqueness? Or do I blend into the background? Perhaps you see an angel, a rare beauty, I don't see. Or perhaps you see a demon that, from hell, has been let free By chance you see a genius that is surely double your IQ Or, Maybe I'm and idiot that could never match up to you. Maybe you see laughter, And a light to make you smile. Then again, I don't recall my humour making you happy, I guess they're mild. Or, maybe you just see darkness The broken smile or dead-man's grin and you think, I'm really not much worth the time too little patience to fix what's within. Truth is, I don't know what you see, but that matters not, because Just by being the man you are You've given me a second chance. I don't care if you see beauty, wealth, or if you hate me for who I am. The fact that I've a fight worth fighting, means that I no longer give ...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Break In Life

Slow, like drops, from a christening bath ripples quick, and shining fast Purest and yet dark as dusk A fallen angel is a must Wings of fire, heart of ash eyes of storms, bestil my past and daggers break on gilded glass to shatter through let nothing last A strike, a blow, a crash of light A flicker dies, eternal night And yet I sit in still and calm for hoping, I will see no harm And still I wait and here I suffer A dying breath, and take for cover A strike, a bow, and black again Promise me my friend that this will end. Silence, empty, lies, false Why tell me that I had a pulse? Why tell myself belief is key? Now nothing is left Remains be seen. Then, back to life, like nothing died I pause and blink… blood, still inside. The light is warm, too hot, can’t see I take a step. Then two, then three. L~
Post a Comment
Read more

It Doesn't Always Hurt

They tell you, "when it's broken You feel it, cuz it hurts." They make you believe that out of the symptoms this one, this truth, is fact, is proof It Always has to hurt. Mine doesn't. It still beats, but it doesn't last for long How can I prove what isn't there? what isn't true? I know. Do I? Don't I? Maybe I don't. I want proof, need it, but nothing. Am I bleeding? My eyes stay shut. Because the lights hurt. Blankets and hot bottles, but I'm shaking with Shadows. Not cold, but ice, with poison Numb So nobody can steal safety. Wordless and cracked, like a safe. I look fine.? they are blind. It's the light. smile . but it's draining. To feel nothing. A face of lead, and it's cracking, like a shattered mask. Smile. Don't smile. Show the world but hide your face, your heart. Be hurt, but be okay. Why is that? What? Is a heart what's in the box? The box we locked away. Safe. No, Pandor...
Post a Comment
Read more