Sprouting Soul

I hide my body,

And decorated my soul,

I don't put doormats or door signs,

That says "welcome" anymore,

I got rid of all the dodders,

And sowed seeds of dreams in my chest,

I worked hard like a farmer on the field of my heart,

Waited for dreams to turn gold for harvest,

When all the flowers bloomed,

You came to pick the cherries,

As if it's not the fruit of my blood,

All the buckets full of sweat no one helped me carry,

But before you step in my garden,

Remember, I've already thrown the doormat away,

And visitors are not allowed anymore,

Unless you commit to stay,

You can knock a thousand times on my door,

No matter what you bring,

If you cannot stay to embrace my fall,

You don't  deserve my spring.

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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