Drooping Like A Defeated Flower Poem by Uriah Hamilton

I'm tired of murderous malls,
blood-stained nightclubs
and drug and violence-addled bars,
weary of the elementary schools of child abuse
and the marriages of endless domestic disputes;
I'd like to bestow my reality with life-affirming sunlight
and virginal dawns.

I'd like to discover the mysterious aspects
behind the eyes of my own beliefs,
share a kindness with myself
and a greater kindness with somebody else,
I'd like to turn my midnight dreams
into fantastic blueprints for far-flung schemes.

I want to meet a girl at a rainy bus stop
with her head drooping like a defeated flower
sinking into absorbing burial mud and tell her
her untapped potential is Eiffel-Tower-immense and skyscraper-like
if she could only give herself a second glance
with resurrected eyes.

I know there is a provocative rage
that can destroy every shackle and cage
of self-imposed exile and spiritual denial;
I know there is only life in complexities and contradictions,
in nurturing the healthy addictions
of curiosity and self-awareness.