My Little World of Flowers
4-23-06

From my little world of flowers, only You can draw me out. I run upstairs, try to make a new world Try to make an existence without the fights. I drop to the floor, turn my face to heaven The pain I feel draws me tight. I escape into a dream world, an unreality, Where the yelling and the screaming stop. I try to ignore the gray skies and the thunder, To make a world where reality is not. It’s a happy world, so bright and soft, But my dream begins to fade back to the bleak. And my happy little world of bright-colored flowers Is stripped away for the cold stone beneath. I run away, try to escape, but there’s nowhere I can go; I’m trembling in a corner, like a child, scared and weak. Still as I run, the world around draws close to stifle me; I can’t escape, I am trapped, and it’s breaking me. Won’t you hear me? Hear my cry? Won’t you listen to my heart’s desire? I know it’s not meant to be like this. I’m sinking, deeper in the mire. Don’t leave me here to drown alone. I need You to be my Daddy, God. You’re the only one I know I can turn to, The only shoulder I can cry on when life’s wrong. My bright-colored world of flowers, I bury myself in to ignore the fight. For it’s there and there alone that I’m happy. It’s there that the world feels alright. This can’t be how we’re made to be! We fight over candles, we fight over power! When I see that the skies aren’t clearing, I run away again, to my little world of flowers. And from my little world of flowers, only You can draw me out.

                       I was EXTREMELY depressed when I wrote this. Long story short my parents were fighting over candles and it was my fault because I had said something that made my dad mad (I didn't think it would when I said it) and then he and mom started arguing. I was PMSing and so even though they've been married for thirty years I was starting to get really scared, thinking, what if they split up? I mean, I'm no huge fan of my dad but still! It wasn't actually rainy or anything that day, but I did have my blinds and curtains both shut, so it might as well have been (I do that quite often. I find darkness to be a good creative atmosphere). At any rate, that's the very much simplified version of my wacky story as to why I wrote this miserable poem.
                      Actually I think it's a bit interesting that the poem I wrote when I was bogged down with depression and a very real fear--and not thinking quite straight--is the only poem of mine where I actually mention God.

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