Everyone told her what they thought

She wanted to hear.

These careless words

Made of smoke and dust

Did more damage to her

Than any insult she had ever been gifted.

She never desired to be a rose,

The thorns were what she admired.

But they were relentless

In trying to shape her.

Words are not only words.

They have the power

To forge living, breathing beings.

What was once would never be again.

A human child

Returned to her clay mold.

Unable to open up, to show any emotion.

Even they could not turn her into the flower

They so desperately wanted her to be.

Every day was the same.

She would have tears for breakfast

The salt leaving her tongue parched.

Nature would not allow them

To evaporate off her face.

Because the fact is:

Girls are not made to be flowers.