A bud touched by the dawn
and the forbidden shade of twilight,
shook violently as it grew,
shooting up with a warrior’s resilience
and wantonly spread its wet, dewy petals.
The world was a abuzz with wonder
at the wondrous creation of such beauty–
a flower unnamed, unique, entirely too different
to be classified as ordinary.
The “flower” was truly atypical
with petals that mirrored the pinks, reds, yellows, oranges of dawn
and the purples, blues, blacks, silvers of twilight–
each petal shone healthy with the touch of light and dark,
a chaotic, cosmic phenomniuim they told the “flower”;
defining her, setting her apart, ostracizing her
until she lost her voice, her petals dry with unspent tears.
She was no longer a “flower”,
but something that was special,
Expectations bent her green stem,
weighing her down with coarse hands and words.
But she stood strong as she writhed in uncertainty,
sinking in unspent soil
and redirecting her roots.
Before the dawn she was ordinary
and as night fell,
she realized she could be so much more
before the audience of many.