He is a God — so I

A fragment.

I feels it

He knows it

I tries to shine?

They dim it.

He gave I

Guarding it from they — from the world

I never knew

it was too late.

I — unflowered soul

Desperately wants its tags & bows

In ignorance I surged

Blinded to the brutish nature of they

Got its hopes dashed and wings clipped away

They sees the fragment

They became jealous

Unreluctant ways of they

He tries to warn

I never listen

The prize, worthy of the journey

I say

Until I almost met its doomsday

I left with scars

The soul never remained the same

Unflowered soul

But still

Help is on its way