Rejection burns its way into my skin, the sting of fiery nettle leaves,

Dreams are uprooted, harshly torn away from the harbor that my mind had once provided;

What had seemed a beautiful flowers now appears a grotesque weed in the garden of my thoughts,

and while I once might have sympathized with the position it was in,

utter defeat strangled my tongue and closed my throat

to only sounds of despair,

Sod is strewn haphazardly around, the remnants of a fast retreating hope,

unable to fill the hole that rejection has created, I plant my defeat instead,

A whole life devoted to such a seemingly untouchable idea,

swiftly is reminded of its fragility,

as its pieces, which once reflected my own image,

now appear in lifeless, mirrorless

shambles.