Reflections Of A Wilted Flower

I was your bud, whose blossom was awaited,
I became the flower that was full in its bloom.
I loved being loved, and hate as you hated,
You compared me to angels, and the divine new moon.

What made you cold, was there some fear?
Tell me human, what really went wrong?
Was I not good, was I not your dear?
If so was the case then what took you so long?

My leaves are now all dull and dried,
My colour has faded and I’m fragile.
The dew every morn’ is a proof I cried,
The whiff of air passing, takes along my smile.

Now here I lay, with my withered wings,
Abandoned, left, broken, and thrown.
My petals may adorn some girl’s rings,
At my place, other buds have grown.



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