I am a delicate flower sometimes when it comes to my emotions. There are bruised petals that won’t fall off quite yet, leaving no room for new growth. There are thorns that seem to be there to protect me, but end up just pushing people away. I may be a delicate flower because I have weathered many storms that have weakened my roots, so I find myself wanting to uproot myself and find a new home. But where to go? I know of safe meadows where no harm will come my way, but there you risk the chance of not being able to plant your seeds and grow again. I know of a familiar place where you’ll end up becoming nothing but thorns, where is the beauty in that?
Delicate, yet strong, looking to grow in all the places. Find me where the wild things are. Find me where the wild things grow.