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.