Wildflowers
I have become so tired of being a mouse caught in your mousetrap, or a fly stuck between your screen and window.
I look around and see everyone who is free to roam as they must, but I’m constantly here with my leg in your trap.
You see me struggling, ready to gnaw off my own limb, but you choose to keep me here while you nurture someone better than me.
Maybe you love them more because the sun sparkles from their glance and my presence brings nothing but storm clouds and ominous thunder; maybe you love them more for their adventurous wildness while I’m best kept in a cage in the corner; maybe you love them more because they are beautiful flowers and I’m nothing but a bush hidden with poisonous berries.
Occasionally I’m set free until I’m lured back, time and time again I actively choose to come back, thinking this time of all will be different, but as always,
you’re frolicking in fields of wildflowers while I’m bleeding out.
I look around and see everyone who is free to roam as they must, but I’m constantly here with my leg in your trap.
You see me struggling, ready to gnaw off my own limb, but you choose to keep me here while you nurture someone better than me.
Maybe you love them more because the sun sparkles from their glance and my presence brings nothing but storm clouds and ominous thunder; maybe you love them more for their adventurous wildness while I’m best kept in a cage in the corner; maybe you love them more because they are beautiful flowers and I’m nothing but a bush hidden with poisonous berries.
Occasionally I’m set free until I’m lured back, time and time again I actively choose to come back, thinking this time of all will be different, but as always,
you’re frolicking in fields of wildflowers while I’m bleeding out.
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