Tender Is The Flower

Tender is the flower…
growing in my chest.
Giving me some oxygen…
to put my breath at rest.

Tender are the thorns…
hurting in my lungs.
Making it hard to breathe…
cherishing the healthy ones.

Tender is the gate…
leading to my brain.
Now it is locked with questions…
was I mental or insane?

Tender is the petal…
releasing its tempting scent.
Asking for forgiveness…
debating if I was a sinner or a saint.

Tender is the soil…
hugging my body tight.
Its warmth under the tender sun…
Keeping me out of sight.

Tender is the reality…
especially when it harshly hits.
Filled the yard with white flowers…
and my grave with regrets.

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