Close your eyes, imagine a flower; doesn't matter what kind, just a flower.
Picture a live, healthy, vibrant flower, minding its own business. You THINK it needs help, so you pour pesticides on it.
Hey it might not have been intentional, but you just sped up its life span.
Imagine that once vibrant flower, now it seems a bit discoloured.
Picture it two days later,
weak, fragile, broken; so you pick it.
You pick it because it's not pretty,
and dying flowers degrade your ever so beautiful garden.
Open your eyes & look around,
We are like that flower,
Some of us are forced to break, shatter even;
the rest of us, we're just slowly dying.
A/N : Hola! This beautiful piece you just read was written by and if I'd say it didn't give me the chills, then I'm most probably lying my ass off. Hope you guys like it too.
-Jolly
YOU ARE READING
Dead Ends
PoetrySometimes it's not about the end. It's just about the story. A collection of four liners that I wrote which didn't have the oh-so-perfect endings. Well because life doesn't offer each and everyone the fairytale endings they grew up listening to.
