The flower grew well, until one day someone took it away. Lies taste bitter, making them wither.
She thought he was showering it with love, but as it wilted over time, it turned out to be a virulent fluid.
The wrong one touched her like fire — left her burning, not blooming. But she walked through every flame, and still came out whole.
“I take care of these flowers every day” such a bullshit.
Letting her die slowly because of his scoundrel behavior. Now he’s telling everyone that the flower is lousy.
The flower will grow the way it is treated.
She almost died, but chose to run away. Asking “Why was I poisoned?” was God’s way of making her strong.
The freedom she gained, the serenity that cannot be defined. I could grow on my own without having to be taken care of by someone.
She endured every wound, found peace in the aftermath, and now waits for the rain that God has promised — the kind that makes flowers grow.
This is the kind of lightness that flowers always seek in the bitterness of poisons. Everything feels relieved and light, no more pain.
I don’t have to look for who will take care of me, God will. And now I can dance with the wind without fear of breaking.
— JEIFFEL.
