The Plant that I Watered

It started as a very small seed,

A small dark knot, hard and round,

That slowly I started to feed,

And little by little got stuck in the soiled ground.

The sky began to darken and clouds gathered above,

Storms watered my seed, but without any love.

All at once it seemed the heavens opened with rain,

Centimeters of water and buckets of pain.

And soon a sprout in the soil began to show,

As the plant that I watered started to grow.

A small green stalk just seeing the light,

Only the beginning of my deep rooted fight.

Back then I mistook my plant’s thorns for flowers

So I fed it with pain, let it fall down in showers.

Once gentle green leaves, now form thick dark vines,

And rings of gray clouds veil the spot where the sun usually shines.

The weather in my head is out of control,

Because the plant that I watered is no longer mine.

It’s hard to remember that this monster was once just a seed,

And the plant that I watered is a now a weed

With roots getting stronger stuck in the dirt,

Thriving in the garden inside me, feeding off my hurt.

The roots to this weed are thick and long,

And sometimes they feel overwhelmingly strong.

But without nurture and care, plants can’t survive

So I cut down my weed to keep me alive.

Slowly, slowly I put my plant through a drought,

Cutting back its vines, shutting the thorns and prickers out.

And as my weed wilted, the other plants inside me

Had room to grow, and were finally freed.

With the monstrous weed gone, they are finally nourished,

And the person that was left behind 

Finally flourished.