My Poem- Dear the Trees and Bumble Bees

“Dear the Trees and Bumble Bees”

When she was born, her eyes glistened with glee and there was a dent in her cheek. And because her family valued her, and she was so priceless, they decided to name her “precious”

When she was 2, her brother was born, and she adored him, and favoured him, and called him “bubby” Because he was her best and only pal and she gave him cuddles all the time.

When she was 5, she was shy, but loved art. She would give her mom drawings with lonesome eyes and say “I love you, mom” without the care that she had nobody.

When she was 10, her friends excluded her and told her lies, but had the audacity to say “It was a good day, mom” And made out everything was okay.

When she was 13, people called her names and her world began to clatter. From the names of “Ugly” she began to believe the lies they told and looked herself in the eye with distasteful tears.

When she was 15, her brother snubbed her and left her side. But, she said to herself, without anyone around “it’s okay, we got this” and dealt with it, because she was just that precious.

When she was 17, she had no friends and had withdrawn herself from the world. Because she was alone, and hated herself, but picked herself up and said “Get over it”

When she was 18, she moved out of home but felt helpless and with a injured mind, she wrote a poem with her last breath,

Dear the Trees and Bumble Bees,

To the skies and azure seas.

From the wind to the perished hearts,

Our minds are in hopeful parts.

In our souls, in our painful past,

It’s the power and courage that makes us last.

It’s the yearning for love, for beauty and peace.

Hatred is something we want the least.

But when the sting is real,

And the scars won’t heal,

We have to realise that the sacred end,

Is sometimes our feelings that can never mend.

 

And when she was with no-one else, she put a hasty note of “I’m sorry” and her poem caught to a wall, and made herself clear out of a high-top booth, and without a thought, she let go of all her built up suffering and fell. Because she didn’t like the aching of being solitary and loathed, and the feeling that she was no longer the precious that she was named.

Yeah, it’s not that great, but it’s relatable.