Wilting

I was planted among thorns

Sharp and merciless, picking flesh from my body

I could not walk or scream or sing

So I stayed among the thorns

Waiting for them to die in the baking sun

As I grew, pieces were taken by the thorns

I started to wilt among the weeds

My stem contorted trying to avoid the pain

Leaves tucked and rapidly dying

I stayed among the thorns

Waiting for them to die in the baking sun

Soon, soon , soon

I turned into a weed myself

A nuisance, sucking sustenance out of fellow survivors

They said nothing but encouragement

But they too were getting tired

Yet, they stayed among the thorns

Waiting to die in the baking sun

One day I changed

Not rapidly, but slowly and painfully

My stem hardened, my leaves grew spiny

And I forced myself to bloom

I am no longer a parasite or a weed

I live among the thorns

And I thrive amongst them in the baking sun