Five Cherry Blossoms Of Despair. Poem by Martin Engstrom

This one young girl with long dark hair,
she had never felt sadness nor a hint of despair.

One day she learned that kids could be cruel,
that's the first day she regretted coming to school.

Because they said 'She can't be seen, and she can't be heard.',
but she pretended she didn't mind, she could still speak her word.

That's the day where the first blossom were plucked,
that's the first day that truly sucked.

Her friend among strangers picked a fight, scissors and kicks coming in from left and right, her yellow big bow got lost along with a strain of black hair, it flew along with the wind, but she could not move, she could only stare.

That's when she plucked the second blossom of sorrow, she could only hope that everything would be better tomorrow.

The next day the kids' said it was all a game, the girl forgave them, but it was all in vain. They lured her out far into the city, soon she stood alone, well what a pity.

It took a long time to find her way back home, then she was greeted with a bruise, so she told her teachers 'I fell on a stone'.

That's the day she plucked one more,
whilst she could feel her purple cheek still being sore.

The next day her friends' smiles were breezy, they walked out the classroom, but this left her feeling uneasy, the teacher put his hand on her shoulder, then he locked the door. That was the day of blossom number four, when more than her cheek became sore.

The fifth blossom she needn't to pluck, it flew right past her, like the time flew past her, like she flew past the train and then were struck.

The five pink blossoms was asked to care, but instead they gave her what's known as despair.