In a field
I am a flower
A flower that stands out among all the others
I’m the wild flower that no one gives a chance
I’m the flower that bloomed unlike all the rest
Water I plentiful
But I as the flower
Get barely enough to go on
Wind torments me with its powering breeze
I stay strong for my roots are mounted with certainty
The cry of a wildflower goes unheard
You’ll know when life has been distilled from the flower
It will begin to lose color
Its beauty will crumble inside and no longer shed externally
The petals will become weak and fragile
Her roots will no longer live to yearn
Yet, there is still beauty in this dead flower
It’s just a matter of somebody noticing her inside beauty
Look beyond what you actually see
The mirror image is nothing in reality