I've had so many more than you
But your my newest and my best one too
Each flower had a thorn of its own
Except for you but your blossom hasn't shown
I've picked them to quickly, way before they were ready
I've had some to keep, staying steady
I've killed a few with my touch
I've had others grow in a rush
I've watched some blossom and bloom
I've watched too many escape because I didn't have room
but this one i thought was at the top
But it never took off it grew with a stop
Your not growing on me your only there
And I'm stopped watching with a stare
Do I clip it now and watch it die
Or do I let it go and watch it fly
Either way I'm afraid of the same
The flower is hurt, with me to blame
I can cut it now, watch it fade to black
But cutting it now will cause it to never come back
Is it fair to promise it to fly
When i know in the end I'm going to cut its leaves and watch it die
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem