She was a blossoming flower until she withered too earlyAbandoned by her mama never new her papa.Her life was all but a sad storyAlthough unlike the rest she never sang any sob storiesOh but her face expressed all her grief
Her eyes told the story her lips wouldn't dare sayAlthough invisible she was so she went unnoticedOrphaned little thing was having a time of her lifeUntil she wasn't.Now usually when an offspring lays eyes on its birth giver you would think everything would be all merry but, no
Words were exchanged, doors were bangedSteps were taken but no where near each otherDriven by her rage vision now suddenly blurred, broomed off her feet with none to catch her but the groundAs unconsciously she laid
She was triggered and trauma houndedSubliminally and subconsciously astoundedTo a point of a near heart attack experienceShe was journaling and fixatingTrying by all means to obey her consciences dictatingAll the anger consuming her, has her out of control and just spiralling 
Biding on one'self has never been such a gambleShe was a sunflower now turned into a brambleShe was the type of bag you had and needed but fumbled it 
A gift handled with haste instead of grace A journey at rest Time was found shaking because what happened to pace? Stagnant little thing pushed to the limit, exhausted to the gutter therefore needed space Circumstances had her looking like she's from the Walking Dead I would have sworn she was in a drug haze Heart forever pulsating her brain acting like it's been set ablaze

By A,. Zoya