Writing poetry isn't as easy as I would like it to be
Poetry is the only way I could express myself but
Sometimes my poems don't go exactly as I want them to be
They start off like all flowers do
With a little motivation, they grow into something beautiful
Then as time passes, like flowers, my poems begin to wither and fall apart
The words only become deeper and darker
I convince myself that there is a reason behind this
I have come to the conclusion that like flowers we are only waiting
Not really living life
But waiting for the next day
Maybe we are only waiting for death to take us
Like flowers, we ignore it while we are young and just sway along with the wind
But as it nears we feel paranoid for what's to come