Wilting
I was planted among thorns
Sharp and merciless, picking flesh from my body
I could not walk or scream or sing
So I stayed among the thorns
Waiting for them to die in the baking sun
As I grew, pieces were taken by the thorns
I started to wilt among the weeds
My stem contorted trying to avoid the pain
Leaves tucked and rapidly dying
I stayed among the thorns
Waiting for them to die in the baking sun
Soon, soon , soon
I turned into a weed myself
A nuisance, sucking sustenance out of fellow survivors
They said nothing but encouragement
But they too were getting tired
Yet, they stayed among the thorns
Waiting to die in the baking sun
One day I changed
Not rapidly, but slowly and painfully
My stem hardened, my leaves grew spiny
And I forced myself to bloom
I am no longer a parasite or a weed
I live among the thorns
And I thrive amongst them in the baking sun