Breadcrumb #583

LAWRENCE BULLOCK II

I call her the rose that was thrust from concrete
Beauty that broke the ceiling of that which
Was meant to keep her entombed
Blood-soaked she is for she had to utilize 
Great effort to bloom

She told me that each plant
That has ever been given to her dies
A gift from each man she meant
Dying while in their sun-scorched pots
Exhausted she is as her scream focuses into other things

How many moons must pass by before the heart
Begins to wilt from the constant let downs
She broke through cement slabs to be here
Now she finds it difficult to water herself
I tell her…that is why those other flowers dry out

You are the plant that needs the substance
When a flower is this parched
It will seek out any source of moisture 
So it can have a fighting chance to continue
It only takes such little effort for a heart to dry out into a desert

Only so much pleasure
To be had before even the stimulation falters
Without water there is no recovery
Without the love for self-there is a decreasing chance of blooming next season
You can be surrounded by an entire forest
And still find out 
That even when the rest are looking healthy
You are still somehow starving
That is why you will find dead patches amongst a rich green

If you are not able to see
The beauty within your own stem
It will not take long
Before other plants including trees
Attempt to take the last bit of your ability to break through.

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