LILAC

The root of mankind became inflicted. The strong remain inside as the raw begins to hide. Show me the face of beauty, the mind that wonders, a smell that hides no fear to the sight onto forgiveness. A soul that carries its meaning growing from with nothing but good intentions. Repetitive energies are focused on wave links. The waves meet along the middle dripping through the soil of what has yet to be bloomed. A sign of pure reality. Each one nourished its fulfillment in life through the warnings of changed seasons to where it is within reasons. We present them in its markings to direct the wilted and restarting. A processed energy no one created for the sake of another. Our moods swindle in reach of a stem. Slowly regressing its colors becomes repetitive. Chucking in the crops seeks a chiseled feature. Its birth was given raw honesty shooting into the world filled with nothing but agony seeing things in order to forgive. Like nature, a mother created us with the plans of mistakes. Our rise gives us hope of committing to what we stand for. Each reach meets us halfway for the sake of better days. It is what’s left to keep a generation continued till we are no longer. Pro longing the platform each is standing as a journey. The blooms will one day turn gloom. However, we soon shall meet its grasp at bay. Just to politely wonder in the piles of fresh lilac, and dimly play the roles that’s gotten us this far.  Yet in the end, it is the light shined upon us to see us through and the scent kept as a memory for the many trials of finding you.