Life of a flower


It’s not prudent to tell people how you feel. While for you it’s honesty, for someone it’s a weapon to exploit.

I do not mean here that it happens every time, but yes, it happens.

We’ve all been through it in some way or the other.

I lie about my emotions now, even to myself. The power of convincing myself about something I do not believe in has helped me in living a lie. A comfortable lie for my mental well-being.

I am not mentally well, I have issues. I am more morbid and pessimistic than the next person.

And I never see that the glass is half full. And that is okay.

It is okay if I am the way I am. I do not need anyone to make me feel guilty about it or make me apologise for something I cannot be.

I have had a difficult life and I am not embarassed by being acceptable of the misery which made me what I am today.

Some days, the Sun never sets and the day continues into another hour and another

Those days I live in oblivion, hoping that the second blink could be the last and I would drift off to sleep

Could cut off the buzz, the unease, the brutality within my own

Some days, the Sun never rises and I am engulfed in the darkness

Moon, I have never seen the goddess grace me with her silvery light

Butterflies come and go, and I stay still, watching.

I turn to the Sun and it’s rays and hope never to wither away

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