My first (and bad) poem
Just A Rose
There was once a person, A person who lived in a mess, A mess they could not escape
This person would say "I'll be better tommorow" Yet that tommorow never came, "I'll fix myself" Yet it would result in a bust.
Completely drained, they layed, Didn't move from their bed Unable to pick themselves up, Apathetic to pick themselves up
They had to be forced outside Had to be told to do. They were stuck in a bubble, A bubble they could not escape.
Until one day, They dragged themselves out On a humble sunny day Im the middle of May,
On the way back Before them stood A beautiful rose, Hidden under leafs and spikes
They smiled, genuinely smiled. The person hesitated, Yet picked it up anyways, Brang it home, put it in a vase.
They opened the windows, Moved the curtains out of the way Light invaded the room While they picked up a bag,
A bag, a trash bag Before they realised, The bag was filled With all the trash which layed around.
The room was clean, Sparkly clean, As if deep cleaned No crumbs, no dust.
The windows were clean, Not a bit blurred by grease. Something unusual To have in this specific room
They turned to the rose It sat on the desk, Now in a vase
A rose, a simple rose Fixed their mess, Changed their personality Something so little.
Pay attention now, If you're ever feeling down Small, simple things Always keep you going.
Pause, don't skip them Take your time, do not worry You're not wasting it, You're using it.
You ask "What's the point?" That's the point Experience joy, happiness This is what life's about,
Not about the big events, but about the small ones The mistakes you made Along the way.
It all built up to this moment To the one where you're alive To the one you are reading this,
You are special, you are real Mark my words, The ones you feel.