Everything will fade like grass,
everything flourishes then dries like flowers on fields.
Watering the flowers that are already watered by others,
staring at grass, that’s already been taken care of.
Trying too hard,
and justifying with mum’s advice that I should be more open.
But I hate it.
I’m trying too hard,
I hate the me trying too hard.
It’s like then why wasn’t I like that when I was born?
Why be so unskilled you feel like an antisocial log sitting among those that actually matter.
I hate partying,
I hate alcohol,
I hate songs that talk about nothing but exploitation
I hate going with the flow
reflection staring back at me violated.
but it should be my fault,
for not being open enough,
or social enough,
or being too dry.
How do you solve fumes
that make you suffocate
like a car in front of you emitting carbon monoxide,
too fast to overtake,
but you can’t fall behind or else
you’ll be labelled a stranger.
I’m so tired,
I want to be the person I’m supposed to be.
I want to be grounded again,
I want to be anchored.
I want to get back to where it all starts.
I want to return
to things that won’t wither
things that won’t fade
things like Isaiah 43
and promises and streams of water in the wilderness.
If I’m a flower that flourishes for a second in the field,
would I have flourished right?
or would I have gloried in pretentiousness and hypocrisy?
If I’m a blade of grass in the field that breathes today
and withers tomorrow,
would I be okay with living that fraction of a second a lie?
To prioritize what’s important and what’s not in my life
it’s long overdue,
but I’ll start today.
Stop the lies
destroy the facades,
and don’t let yourself be blown by the wind.
the potential and capabilities
you were meant to be.
Continue your journey
towards dying empty.
Even when it feels like
no one is there,
or no one cares,
continue building that platform
because one day it will all come true.
The promises, the dreams,
To be multilingual,
to write better,
to speak better,
to see clearly,
to discern more.
To be everything you dreamed
and much much more.
Be the flower you’ll be proud of,
and make your one second on this earth worth it
by living your truest,
So when you die,
you can fulfill what you planned since you were fourteen;
to have lived to the fullest,
so you wither as a flower,
empty and fulfilled.