Used Flowers

I was once young, foolish and naïve.

I believed that all souls were just like me;

Optimistic, compassionate, kind-hearted and sincere.

I began to crave a soul that was much like mine,

For a heart that was just as lovely and divine.

And so I opened my heart, mind and soul to any and every,

And bloomed vibrantly, Not knowing I would have been robbed of my genuineness.

From my stem, blossomed thriving beauty.

But I was delicate and so I was withered away by their treachery.

Although my petals were vigorous in colour,

I perhaps its glaring was what made my appearance peevish.

It is often times said that “hurt people, hurt people,”

So maybe that is why they invaded like thieves,

And misused and abused whatever they had chosen,

And left me with nothing but dead leaves,

But although they took from me what was rightfully mine,

I am flattered by the thought that it was only because

My colours were so wonderfully refined.