Here I sit yet again,
One more day upon the windowsill.
Here I hang one more day,
Yet again upon the peeling walls.

Pass me by.
I'm just watching,
Take no notice.
I'm just here.

The only spectator,
In a game everyone plays.
Keeping count of the score,
Never to get off the bench.

Here I am a wilting wallflower.
Not dead yet,
But getting there.

Here I am precious little weed.
Drying slow,
But not dead yet.

Lonely flowers can't sing,
God created them without a mouth.
Wilted petals won't play,
To fragile and scared to even try.

Glance at me,
Then walk away.
You won't pluck me,
I'm stuck here.

Able to leave but won't,
Too afraid to leave my pot.
I'm safe but still hurting,
My tears are my herbicide.

I'm just a dark wilting wallflower.
Not gone yet,
But getting there.

Just a lotus in camouflage.
Fading out,
But not dead yet.

On this ivy wall of life,
I can see rose gardens in the distance.
Beside me all the other wildflowers,
Clumped together, yet each their own island.
All around me are other wallflowers,
Blind to everything but the dreams,
All the fantasies of living in the rose gardens.
If only we could see each other.

So pretty,
So alone.
So loving,
So unkown.

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