You survived your own mutiny.
Subdued the internal revolt.
Your battle scars are resolution and confidence… but that means you’ve got no scars to show.
From the outside they slander you as arrogant, condescending, unremorseful… they don’t see you on the mountain barely clinging…
You’re just a rose.
Fierce storms rise up in you. The why dids and why didn’t you’s. And truth be told, part of you wants them, even though they don’t want you and you reason within that if they could see you want them in your struggle that they’d want you too.
Second guesses multiply like fractions of a whole attention span in a 3rd grade math classroom.
Allegiance and loyalty challenged, where growth is the only measuring rod… “Don’t you see me on this mountain?” You say. “Don’t you see this… rose?”
Mudslides and dirty petals. Scruffy lookin nerd herder blacker than the pot that mocked kettle. No reward is worth this…
But it is, my friend, it is.
There is no turned rose tail to tell of in this tale of a rose…
Dust yourself off, and look how far you’ve come.
Leash those emotions and tell them- it’s time to move on.