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Flowers
October 30, 2019
flowers.
like life,
they’re fragile.
at only one touch
they can be broken.
but the bodies in which
life can be contained
aren’t as corrupt
as the mind that controls it.
inside we’re scared;
inside we’re lost.
we don’t know what’s happening
when it’s happening.
the shrubs that
lie in the ground,
touched and untouched,
passed and unnoticed,
are like us.
we don’t know how
beautiful we are
until someone else
notices.
but like flowers,
people die.
and life moves on,
people move on.
© Hanna G., Setauket, NY
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This piece hits personal because I wrote it during a dark time in my life after having previously gotten over a big depression and going back to the reoccurance of the same feelings day after day.