Unborn Flower

Me, the odd man out. I feel like the seed that never did sprout. Trying to figure out why life is this way, the fear of not knowing growing by the days. So as I lay, half sleep falling into a trance, I think, what is the chance of me defeating my past. At last, I rise to my feet still being drownded in sin, a state of gloom takes its position; I cannot win. People seem to be taller or I'm getting smaller per sin I commit, I'm in deep water. Everybody's watching for me to grow, but I die silently as water covers my nose. So as the last glance of the world fades, I pray to God my soul to take.