You aren't a flower

You aren’t a flower Darling, you are not a flower. You are not meant to just be seen. You are not beautiful for a moment, nor weak in the knees for those god-damn bees. You are not petals to be picked for the haves and the have-nots then discarded to the ground as you shrivel up. You are not meant to be picked and used until you die in their upturned palms. You are not meant to last a season. Darling, you are not the leaves You are not meant to crunch beneath their feet. You are not changing hair colors and styles Nor just a princess dressed in yellows, pinks and reds. You aren’t meant to just fall for the first guy who walks by. Nor meant to be used in a sunny spotlight to help Everyone else around as you go dead and dry. You aren’t meant to last a season. Darling, you are not the trunk. You are not your size nor meant to be ignored. You aren’t the home for others to dig in, scratch at, Claw out and use for a temporary reprieve from their problems. You aren’t the stump left for dead by those who think They are more important than you. Nor are you meant to be picked at, written on, or barked at without your consent. You aren’t meant to last a season. Darling, you are the root of every happiness. You are the passion coursing through your veins And the apple of my eye. You are every branch of an idea you have The practice swords. To the paper that poems to the House you can build for your god-damn self. You are every season . You are every tree that breathes. You get to be seen, dreamed under and dreamed about. You get to be experienced as a constant joy. You get to be celebrated as you bloom and cherished when you fall. But more than all of that, you get to live and breathe for you. You get to create the fruits of your work And the blossoms of your creativity. You get to ground into everything you love and everything you want to be. You get to be you and grow toward the sky every single season.