Petals of Pain

A noblewoman who never sheds scars from fragile eyes, you won’t hear her inner child cry. A palette of purple pride hides horrific truths. We hid behind a small frame, evading the regiment’s reign. I used to watch you plant us with buds of hope and wonder why you lived a life starved of chirping joy. No rays from the serene sun shone upon you to thrive. Mother, now I’m older and wiser, I see your petals of pain pulsating in the sky, losing love in intolerable ways with no time for glistening goodbyes. Your kin resided in a tyrannical site, suddenly slipping silently into the soil. Their deceptive departures make my blood cells boil. You chose to linger with a taupe tyrant in a haunted house of hell, never a penchant for letting your children run in the chill of the sangria storm. For us to prosper, I now understand why you remained. You never probed for a rescue, redemption, remedy, or embarked on a journey for an assembly of tulip empathy. Your wise words were not lost, but I grieve for the blushing roses you never held. I thank you for being a suppressed sunflower locked in a cell. I know you weren’t under a sad spell but striving for your offspring to bloom in a world weighed down by harsh seasons. The question of whether they prevail only devilish time will tell.