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Meg Lealand

(05/05/96 / London)

The Flower


This flower is one of darkness.
The petals are velvety black.
The thorns are spiky and malicious:
A rose- but does goodness lack.
And when a girl is first let down,
The Flower's seed is planted
The Flower's seed is planted

A tug from in the stomach
A tear brought to the eye
When that girl lies upon her bed
And doesn't sleep- but cries.
And on the first night upon a wet pillow
The seed splits as the Flower grows
The seed splits as the Flower grows

The girl will fall in love so soon
But her heart is broken by one she did trust
It'll take her months to get over this one
As the happy memories of love turn to dust.
And the first time the girl's heart is broken,
The Flower grows
The Flower grows

Our girl turns into a young woman;
Leaving school and the people she knew.
With a lump in her throat she says goodbye,
Ones she sees again there are few.
Friends left in the past- forgotten,
Fuel the Flower's growth
Fuel the Flower's growth

She gets a job- low pay, hard work
That she loathes every day.
Childhood dreams- atronaut, vet,
All lost along the way.
And when childhood is truly left behind
The Flower thrives
The Flower thrives

Marriage next- True love? Maybe not.
But then children are on the cards.
Post-natal depression takes over her life-
A life destined to be hard.
And in unfair circumstances,
The Flower reaches
The Flower reaches

The children grow- choose their paths.
Choose better than she chose her own,
She cries over her wasted life,
Looks round- she's left alone.
And although the Flower is as old as she,
It rises towards her sorrow
It rises towards her sorrow

The Grandkids visit one Sunday lunch,
Full of energy and life.
She looks at what she gave to them,
And in her joy forgets her strife.
And it is only in the light of love, joy or hope,
That the Flower shrivels.
That the Flower dies.

Submitted: Friday, May 29, 2009
Edited: Saturday, June 26, 2010

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