He was a lotus flower, I was the mud he was covered in..
His own beauty was enough, I just added to the drawback.
He was a bright white rose,fragrant and elegant, well I was the thorns that degraded him. The thorns which needs to be cut-off before calling the rose beautiful.
The irony is, though I were the thorns, I was still admired, for I was a part of the best flower.
No one would like mud,but I still felt important because without mud, the significant lotus could not grow.
If he was the sunflower, I was the seeds, that weighed too much on him resulting in him facing down.
I was always someone, who put him down and wouldn't let him embrace his self.
Because if he was a field of dandelions, I was the wind that carried away his beauty with me.


© himani