As the last petal falls, and lands gracefully on the floor, the light creeps into the room via an opened door.
The leaves all faltered, and bright colours start to fade, it’s no longer as pretty as intended when made.
The soil, it dries up, and the stem starts to bend with strain, all the life that was there is beginning to drain.
No one looks towards it with that familiar admiration, it’s not hard to see why it’s lost all determination.
It broke out of its seed, and showed the world its potential, but it turns out there things much more essential.
And now it stands broken, and the furtherest thing from brave, more scared of what it’s become than it’s final resting place...