withering flower.

Withering flower in the rain,

Has it ever known pain?

 

The petals strain under the weight of the water, 

They fall limp as they begin to falter.

One by one the petals drop, 

Bringing their growth to a stop. 

 

Is the purpose of water not rehydration?

Breath of life, birth and creation?

Instead, they choke on liquid suffocation. 

 

My hands touch the saturated leaf,

It is those that are supposed to heal that bring us grief. 

 

Many try to shower me with their love,

But I fear the same results as above. 

The weight of their affection is only in vain,

For I am familiar with the pain. 

 

Admiration does nothing but replenish my agony,

Devotion to me will only end in tragedy.

Time after time I have waited in the cold,

Feeling the raindrops deep in my soul. 

 

I have utmost envy for the withering flower,

At least they never felt the burden of power. 

All eyes on me waiting in anticipation, 

Will I  fall in love or die by suffocation?

 

Alas, one day the rain will halt,

Removing the pressure of it being my fault. 

Withering flower in the rain,

I resonate deeply with your pain. 

 

— Miss Mephistopheles

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