Andrew Hoffman

The Flower

His hurt and his scars always seem to grant him with hope
Yet he still always tries to forget and to cope
As he lies awake alnight, drowning in his own tears
The memories come back to haunt him and he adapts to more fears
Waking up each day is his greatest expense
He is convenced the only solution is to put a hault to his existence
After searching and searching he has found something in his sight
He experiences new feelings of comfort and delight
Never has anything made him feel so invincible and free
Never has he been so happy and not have to pay a free
This gift he possesses is the antidope to it all
It is his bandaid and makes him feel so very tall
Many view this as a waste of devoted time
Nothing is a waste if it motivates you to climb
Nothing will heal, it is only but a tourniquet
This is as close to acceptance as he appears to get
Despite his everlasting pain and things from the past
He can lick the taste of happiness with this gift he found at last
He trusts in his heart, this is the only thing that won't ever leave him
It is the only thing that doesn't make him feel condemned
Each hour you spend dreading upon something is a waste of an hour
You have to get thru the thorns in order to find the flower

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, October 13, 2009

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