First off, I wasn't exactly sure where to put this...so here it is. I don't like to title things, so this'll probably end up without one. One more thing, if you're having trouble reading it, try speaking it out loud. Most of my poetry is written to be spoken, which is why I have so much trouble with formatting ^_^. Rip it to bits. I'm hell-bent on polishing this piece.
* * *
fresh as any daisy still withering picked from the lifeblood of the universe
craving a sustaining force not just a makeshift home of water and glass
praying to spread roots cut clean still feeding though earth has stopped giving
stop giving me flowers why do you insist on handing me dead weight?
who can handle to be so free so free cut free from world weight weighing down silly light balloon girls
be careful what you wish for you just might find yourself
stuffed in a vase with nothing to do but die
tied not to roots but the lack therof dependant on some
higher being to fill up your bed so maybe you'll live
one
more
day
not immobile but immovable
borrowed seasons continuing facade of what might be life but alas!
the poor fool was left to her own devices and
cut loose
as fingers reaching to heaven in motionless pose
struck silent
grounded to one place
mortal though no one would guess it
living dead so why not take that last little step
no one would blame you, strange blossom, feasting on shadows
maybe it won't even hurt
for long.
no choice but to give in.
to
...fate?
which is worse, then?
stuck to the ground with no where to go,
or sev'ring the stem, and ceasing to grow?
