Four Seasons

Summer

Sitting there, looking beautiful - she’s still

The sun warms her roots and strengthens her color

The air is thick - reapply the makeup, look pretty, sit and tan

obey

Fall

Slowly, she degrades - her outer layer is gone

Left is only the shrumpled up inside of her - torn and ruined by the fakeness she was forced to be

The inside was always what mattered, she knew that

Her freedom had been riped from her, leaving only one choice to follow

Winter

Stomped, crumpled, pressed, choked

She withers down to nothing

A blanket drowns her cries

Once she stops fighting, she realizes the blanket is no danger, but a friend who warms, someone to cherish

Someone who will not bind her with chains

Spring

As the blanket leaves, she’s gone

A delicate girl, swept with the wind

Is that so?

Then what is that rosebud growing from the soil?

A soul renergizing in her peak, coming back for the better

No, she’s not fragile like a flower, but fragile like a bomb

And as she rises to be who is truly within

One can see if you look closer - a phoenix rising from her ashes

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“She was not fragile like a flower, she was fragile like a bomb.” - Frida Kahlo