Reflection

Like a bud that has fallen from a tree, you lie in despair superfluously, scattered around disheveled and scorned, not strong enough to weather the storm, you flower and bloom, not as bright as could be, or as vivid as the those that remain on the tree, fighting to flourish being stuck in the shadows, vulnerably taken wherever the wind blows, turning negitive to positive is a tough life lesson, getting left behind just could be a blsesin', the buds up above have become beautiful leaves, though a truncated life they depart from the tree, now they join you to wither and rot, dry and crumble and then be forgot, but you have sowed hard and reaped bountiful fruits, you staked out your claim and planted your roots, the leaves that once were, nobody remembers, but you have become a strong mighty timber, though blemished and rough with authentication, the tree you've become are lost buds inspiration.