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Adolescence
As I am your flower,
I am your seed, your broken seed,
or I am your ripe blossom preparing to fade;
you have no room for the shoot,
the unflowering green beauty
filling itself up with the fight for the sunshine.
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This article has 1 comment.
This poem is about how, when you're a teen, you don't feel accepted for the stage you're in and the struggle with mood changes that it involves. People expect teens to either act like perfectly mature "together" adults or like small children. As teens, we're somewhere between the "seed" and the "ripe blossom" so people don't see anything special in us.