metamorphosis

I will no longer paint the roses red
I will forever celebrate the colors that they are.
I will hide my tears and my fears no more.
Instead, ill shed them and feel them as the wind takes them away.
No more shall i cower in your wake,
But stand tall like the mountain and the oak.
I will bloom in spring as the crocus sprouts through the snow, bright sunny yellow, and lively green.
You were my cacoon,my molder, and captor; Never realizing the the wings of vibrance i would grow to flutter away for ever.