like a flower picked
by some wanderers hand
torn from my roots and carried out into the cold.
watching everything i knew that was safe
receding into the distance.
watching everyone i loved fade away.
i'm terrified that i will whither.
terrified i'll be alone.
terrified of a new adventure.
terrified of the unknown.
but some flowers can grow again
even if they were uprooted.
but those flowers are few
and i'm not sure i'm one of them.
i think now, i shall never pick another flower.
i know how it feels to be torn from your home. |
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