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Fuel of the Iris
One whole year,
Has come and gone,
Since you have enraptured me.
I want to feel like the withered iris I am,
But instead,
I am not an iris,
I am a vacant speck of pollen,
Floating through the air,
Weathered and yellowed by the wind,
Carried off by your impurity,
Shaken by your evil.
I could fall back together,
Fall back to being that iris,
Give it life,
As the speck I now am,
But with one shift
in the movement of the air,
I am lost again.
And when the rain falls,
I am washed away.
You have done this to me.
I am created to be dirty,
By you.
With someone always vying to get away,
I am poisonous to some,
I am desired by others,
But,
You have ruined me.
I am nothing.
I am dirt.
I am dust.
An unwanted fleck of ragweed,
Loose and alone,
Unbound by suffering.
You have done this,
Destroying everything I was.
I’d rather be withered on the earth,
Decaying like a bone,
Transforming to become
Fuel for others.
I am immobilized by despair,
A current of change and patterns,
I will become the gas,
Fueling your car,
Fueling your heat,
And fueling your life.
This is how I will live,
Instead of the deteriorated iris I wish to be.
I will not be the pollen you made me,
I will not be your fossil,
I will be the gasoline,
I will be the fuel,
Changed by you,
Conformed to society,
So I can live once more.
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