Burden

So many people will come along who will tell you that your mind is a work of art.

That your brain is the contemporary art of modern society-

to some, there will only be lines and shapes,

others though, will see the flowers.

And you will be the seed that blooms within them.

But you’re planting your seeds in those who don’t deserve your flowers.

Only one should hold such purity,

such beauty.

If only you would think as deeply as you breathe then you would realize that the only seeds you should plant should be planted in yourself.

 

Because you, too, will tell people that their mind is a work of art.

Only they will be picasso-

there is value in their image,

but no value in their values,

And just like flowers, I too will wilt.

Once I do, no one will be left to bare your beautiful burden-

this garden inside of me.

So save yourself while you can,

rip my veins from the base- they are the roots.

Plant what is left inside of you.

 

So that new life can grow.

So that I will always be apart of you.

  

This poem is about: 
Me

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