Flourishing

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I am flourishing to a strange being.
Forged by the currents of where I've been.

Undeniably high on self esteem.
This bright I no longer can seem to dim.

I don't deny literally wailing in pain.
Women are made of tears inducing strains.

With pain comes experience and lessons.
Better selves are moulded in those seasons.

I am a blend of different soul textures.
As mine has befriended their own gestures.

They whispered healing words to my ears.
Patched up my broken with their tears.

Keyboards allowed me to rise above my fears.
I no longer try to fit in ordained spheres.

Prose has since enchanted my soul.
Words filled the voids and made me whole.

I keep flourishing despite endless scorns.
Like a beautiful rose tucked in between thorns.