Questions (a poem)πŸŒΈπŸ’—πŸŒ·

Why do I give my precious energy to others?
Why do I love those who don’t love me back?
Why do I waste my time on nothing?
(on everything)
on anything to distract me
from what I have
and what I don’t.

How have I become who I am?
How do I finally stop falling apart
long enough to pick up the pieces of my crumbling soul again,
and make them stay in place
(make them stick)
for once.

When will I stop hiding,
biding my time in secret
waiting for someone else to tell me:
you are worthy,
you are loved,
you are strong.
When will I stand up myself and begin to become her?

I thought I had.
But I have not yet begun blooming,
as my roots need more room to grow.

All these questions and more swirl in my brain
day and night
sleeping and waking
and every moment in between.
Ebbing and flowing
at the mercy of the emotions
that are out of my control.

But there is only one question that truly matters
right here
right now.

Who do I want to be, and what will I do to become her?

Peace,
The Woodland Wallflower

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