I Hold Dear All the Hurts

I hold dear all the hurts that grow amongst the flowers but I will not pull them out I cannot uproot them otherwise how will I know who I am without bloodstained footprints in the sand to remind me where I’ve been and where I might be going? I am the gardner who’s weeds are the testament of a world that’s out to get me and oh how they grow from the upset I sow by not digging deep enough into the soil of my soul. Yet the blossoms will not despair despite my errant trampling they reach in my direction and whisper above the din of love and caring but I am already gasping surrounded by fear certain that circumstance is out to get me. I remain small and helpless injustice pierces my heart like shards of glass broken by all those who should have loved me mistrust becomes my armor defiance my protector blame the great deflector righteous anger my defender as I charge toward the precipice of my limited vision. Will they build my monument with a broken heart and fallow face will they come with wreaths to mourn my fate will the chance to be grateful be lost forever by my hate will I wake up in time or will it be too late?