Unbloomed: a poem and silent outlet of how I feel right now. A flowerbud waiting to bloom, I am ready to become full and bright. Yet, right as I am about to bloom something stops me; I am stuck, unable to move forward despite knowing what is next, I am still waiting to bloom, more than ready to move on to the next stage...I fear if I do not bloom soon, my petals will brown and fall, having never bloomed and never to bloom again. Though perhaps I will still hold on to some petals, their connection to my stem too strong to let go even as they wither, but who could find beauty in a wilted, half-gone flower? And how could I survive in that state? does knowing I wouldn't be able to help me? No, for without the rain it is impossible to bloom, and though if I did the work perhaps my beauty could attract people to water me, that is energy I simply do not have, or perhaps do not WANT to have, as it is stored too deep in my roots to reach. So for now, I wait in silence hoping I will bloom soon, but unable to do so unless something around or within me changes.
This is probably bad, and idk if it even counts as a poem I just...thought of it and wanted to write it down.
