The Orchid of My Youth

I got high off the scent of the Juliet roses.

The beautifully wicked smell of the Juliet roses.

That brilliant, egocentric, untouchable perfume.

Like losing yourself in a song that seems to drip with you,I drowned in that perfume.

One mistake was all it took.

It was crushing torture to watch helplessly as everything I knew and loved disappeared.

Each breath I drew in was accompanied by a searing spike in my heart.

When you hit rock bottom, you change.

My eyes were ripped open, forced to realize that the Juliet roses must be watered and tended to.

My persona underwent a revolution, forever transformed.

At first I sunk into a dark cavern, poisoned with self hatred and remorse.

But then I started tending to my own flower as the roses withered away.

The self-obsessiveness and yearn for perfection went with them.

Here I stand today, a person I am confident to say I am. A good person.

I still tend to the orchid I took on, because even though the stem isn’t lovely or captivating, I flourished at the end.

I bloom and I thrive.

Life is again colorful like the flower at the end of the stem of the orchid.

I no longer harbor remorse in my mind.

Because without me losing the Juliet roses, I would have it all, but still be an atrocious person.

The torture was worth it.

And now I am content.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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