It’s been too long since forty-eight.
Closing the door is easy,
yet opening it again seemed difficult, really.
Since inside are thorns and needles,
that it’s hard to enter in a bundle.
The flowers inside begin to wilt,
as the beauty of the room starts to tilt.
It was rather difficult to make them all bloom,
and yes, everything now looks in gloom.
Wondering how such things happen,
isn’t unusual and likely happens ten out of ten,
when something strikes upon you,
realizing there’s a stone on fire too.
It’s difficult to melt,
the stone I meant.
It’s become ragged and rough,
in time became tough.
Why is it hard to take down pain?
in fiery anger there is nothing to gain.
It’s difficult to melt, yes.
But let’s be humble and stay out of mess.
*inspired by my procrastination for report (LOL)
*no photo as my aesthetic inspiration today