Drifting

A simple creation of nature,
so subtle and pure, poetry
personified; immortalized
in a flower colored off blood…
Such is the love of us humans,
shapeless and omnipresent in
our complex hearts, driven
by strong emotions and mixed feelings…
For, our understanding turns the flow
of how we go about it, how we
live with it, how we mould it;
this delicate rose of our hearts…
Thus as we’re forced to drift, I feel hated,
hated by this mass of empty flesh,
each selfish and ignorant of the
very garden they each live in…
Hence love’s course molded by us,
to assure our fixture in the
the garden of this world, spells
pain and endurance…
This drift we face for our
love’s survival, unwanted; uncalled for;
makes our hearts writhe with pain as we
can see but cannot feel…
But our love will remain the same,
for, our hearts have bled rivers
too keep its name. And those rivers we shall
swell for our rose’s survival!!