By: Kylie D.

The dried roses in my room. They see how I feel sometimes but though a flower, the thing that people love. I choose it because I just did what I thought was good.

2nd Place · Middle School Writing (2022)

I feel like a wilting flower

Like I’m being drained of all my power

My head always hanging down

My heart made of petals

Still falling even after the wind settles

My vibrant color

Gone in a flutter

Now none see me

The bees now here

But not for me

I am free

But not the way I want to be

No more joy left with me

Only surrounded by weeds

I don’t want to be a wilted flower

Looking less like me by the hour

Petals falling in a scatter

One again left with not power