Modifications Of Leaf

Sometimes,

I see myself as a leaf,

Too high temperature, I wither,

Or too low temperature, I crumble,

Too many annoying bugs, I'm dead,

No support or water,

Then that's my end,

I’ve learnt fears don’t help for survival,

Changes is what is needed,

If I want myself to be acceptable.

Hard times for me the leaf,

From insects and flower plucking people,

From overwhelming fate and unsatisfied parents,

Times might turn,

If I turn into a spine,

Defence work I will do,

Like cactus and opuntia I will be,

Sometimes hurt the ones who touch me,

With this new life as a weapon,

That I have become.

Or maybe I could be a tendril,

Like grapes and peas,

A hold for me to curl,

Something for me to lean on,

As I’ll be more weaker than now,

I’ll gain sympathy and be a charity case,

It won’t be too bad I hope,

Since obviously the velocity of pain will decrease,

And hurt hurling at me will be less,

When all sees my hopelessness.

If I’m still unsatisfied,

I might turn over a new leaf,

Change into something,

Which obviously hasn’t a look of leaf,

Like a pitcher plant I could be,

Or a venus fly trap may be,

A Total change in character,

Like a murderer, a thief,

It’s just a facade to survive this life,

But I'd still the same troubled leaf.