Primrose

It is a fragile thing,

Something so delicate even the wings of red roses cannot compare.

The wind may shatter it and the dust might corrupt it,

The darkness may scare it and the sunlight might burn it, but we try.

We try to help it survive,

And it needs the most nourishment,

It needs attention and sacrifice.

It needs reassurance and to be cleared of doubt,

But when it is alone only shall things start to devour.

The darkest regions of tomorrow's batter will make it surrender its free will

And healing will subside and the shards will start to scatter

And the training of the left side will fall and it will tatter until it is held again
And healed from all the damage.

And the old blood spatter can be wiped away but the open-wounds will still remain,

It will be unsatisfied but only for a moment until left alone again,

Where the nothing it can blossom and forgiveness will not be forgotten.

And again the heart it braces,

To be broken.

Musical Inspiration