The Wilting Flower

The flower wilts
Under Winter’s frost.
Friends leave
The flower is lost.

Dead to the world
Hidden ‘neath snow.
Silently dying,
Though no one knows.

The flower cries,
Its petals fall;
It now looks ugly:
Nature’s call.

Freezes slowly
From outside to in,
Silently screaming
Of the pain that its in.

Naked and cold
It shivers alone.
The flower is dying
And has never been known.

Like a weathered rose
Beaten by hail,
Thorns pierce the wind
But to no avail.

The flower is weak,
Tortured by lies;
No one can hear
As it slowly dies.

Disappearing forever,
Eternal sleep.
Eternal damnation
That cuts so deep.

Now I am weak,
I have no power:
For I truly am
The wilting flower.