Small, yet determined, she floats through the burgundy hallways
Stopping meticulously at each door to leave her mark
In one hand a shimmering lily
The other, a poppy
The petals are dwindling but
As she touches the flower it bursts
Blooming into what it was
At each door, the same response-
Shock (only at the younger ones)
And then fear, anger, sadness
With each knob that she twists open
A flood of forget-me-nots always
On the hardest days she will find a daisy and still
Laughter rings in her ears
With the tears always come the roses
The loneliness of those left behind
Occasionally she will come across an orchid,
And glance up to the gold studded door
Emotions barely register on her small, porcelain cheeks
She always moves with a certain aura, almost possessed
Hardly eager to move on, certainly aware of who she is
No one loves her and no one ever will
For some she is the light at the end of the tunnel,
For others an escape
But always-
She is the inevitable.
We spend our lives in fear of her, eager to accomplish our dreams
Before she opens the door of our lives
But when it all comes down to a moment
(Which it usually does)
She is just as alone and scared as we are
So when we are both at the end of our doorways
And she stands there wrapped in her lilly white robe
We can choose to be afraid,
Of a small little girl who haunts the hallways of a world to big for her
Or,
We can grab our custom bouquet and toss it at the world
Because
In the end, what are we if not what we stood for
So don’t be afraid of the girl who haunts the hallway
Spend your life collecting the best flowers
And then maybe she will smile.