Break

The flowers grow in this loaming soil,

Strong and proud they stand without fear,

Magnifying off their audacious colors

And exhibiting themselves to the whole wide world.

Roots planted down deep into the earth,

Almost nearly touching the core.

The flowers allow themselves not to be picked.

Vastly rooted into the soil that is their own,

They fear no enemy and continue to grow.

So what makes us so different?

We build up brick walls around us but we crumble under pressure,

We let others decide who we are to be,

We do not stand our own ground for we have lost touch with our roots.

We do not shine our own colors for fear of being an outcast.

And why is this?

We do not break because we are the break.

We are the force that causes the break.

We rip others away from their roots, withering away their confidence.

As a flower does when it loses touch with its roots.