She stood tall and lonely.
But she waited so calmly.
She didn't make a sound,
No. Just kept her ground.

"I heard she had no one."
"I heard she didn't need."
"I heard she was on the run."
"I heard she was just another weed."

One by one the petals crumpled into brown sheaths.
Bruised on either side of her colored skin.
From the painful calls she had to bear,
No one she had to share.

"I'm breaking and dying",
She needed death to come back alive.
"All was worth it when I was crying",
The death for her to come back strong and live.

Shedding the bruises, shedding all pain,
Coming out fresh and new from the rain.
From all experiences found and tried,
Proudly saying "I am a flower that died, a flower revived".