The Withered Flower

Midnight in the world’s silence,

In heavy rainfall at the farthest part,

When the heavens cried,

A bud was bloomed.

Pure as dew,

A beauty to view,

It bloomed each day,

Fresh and bright.

It wanted to sway,

With the wind around,

It wanted the kiss,

Of the morning mist.

But amidst the joy,

It forgot the truth,

That it was held,

By the earthly care.

So much care,

That it loved to feel,

But so much care,

That chained its move.

It tried to blossom,

To reach its dream,

But the mother’s care,

Pulled it back.

And without a word,

In silent pain,

The little flower,

Withered apart.

With never feeling,

The wind around,

And never enjoying,

The mist of love.

The withered flower said goodbye,

With never to tell,

The care that killed,

The beauty of life.