We are all different on the outside and inside. And we are the ones who ought to choose what really matter – who are we really.
Somedays, we fear we are not who we are, that they know that side, and we are afraid they did not know this part. We are scared they will not look at us anymore.
Thus, we shall always remember: sunflowers can bloom in the rain.
There are days, we are just so drained of being not what we are. We ask ourselves, "Will that be okay – will I be – if I explode?"
Sometimes, it is exhausting. Asking ourselves what we really believe in. That we might be pretenders. That we could see two people in ourselves.
But eventually, it is the heart – it is only the heart. Who knows – who only knows what are we really.
A lovely scent and glimpse of sunny sky,
A mystical creature dancing through the wind under the grassfield;
With my petals brushing,
Whenever people see me,
They will say, "What a thing, so beautiful."
Little did they know, under the surface I am pitiful;
Tying the knot who is bound to loose,
Trying to paste those petals who is about to fall,
And in the end – what is to choose?
"I want to be myself," I recall.
The sun is shining,
And I shall be smiling;
A twinkling creature who can make others smile,
But why –
Whenever I am battling with the bees sipping my petals,
There is no one?
A little girl walks past the garden gate,
I am smiling at her,
She looks into the other;
Remembering what facade I wear,
I think, sometimes, I just want to lay down on the green grass.
My roots are tired of being roots,
They want to be a stem for a while;
My petals are tired of being them,
They want to be the roots forever.
And I am tired of being this creature;
I am tired of tying the knot who is bound to loose;
I am tired of trying to paste those petals who is about to fall,
Because tying and trying is hard – I do not have any hands.
How can be a yellow smiling creature like me,
Be so mournful inside?
Why is that,
What they see –
Is what they get,
But not the real one?
And I do not want to smile just because the sun is there;
I would want to smile, because that is what I really feel – inside my heart,
But I am a sunny creature,
And I smile even if there is no sun,
So when people are outside the garden gate,
I feel my petals becoming wet even if it is not raining;
They say it is from the sprinklers,
But I know it is tears,
I hide behind those waters,
Because when I feel the sprinkler,
That is when I feel my petals start to hold.
Smiling does not mean you cannot cry,
But a smiling creature means pretending –
Who does not get tired of smiling anyway?
We are all busy,
Of what we show,
That we forget –
What we really are.
It is hard to show my fragments,
People only see me as a whole –
Will they still like me . . .
If I show the real sunny creature I am?
What if the real me . . .
Is my petals tearing up?
And I know,
People do not like things that are broken.
And I cried being this creature;
I cried tying the knot who is bound to loose;
I cried trying to paste those petals who is about to fall,
Because my petals continue to break,
And who I am – if I would not cry?
I am a sunny creature,
They said, "What a thing, so beautiful,"
Watery sparkles were flowing,
With the sprinkler pouring as I wisphered, "Under the surface I am pitiful."
But who I am – if my petals were not falling?
Who I am – if I did not cry?
"Certified sunflowers are slightly rain-tolerant, meaning they are not rain-proof and can still be soaked in rainwater. But will be able to survive." —upd.edu.ph.
So do you.
