I am a flower

I am not a flower
I do not demand sunlight to grow
my skin does not crawl at the thought of winter
the wind has no power over me
the storms do not control me
I am not attracted to the way rain steeps it’s way into me
my stem is not fragile
my petals are hardly frail
I am not grounded to one spot
my growth is not controlled by my surrounding 
and my dirt cannot be turned over

I am my own
before I am anyone else’s
I will not be taunt by some gardener
or plucked by the wondering customer
whose ghostly eyes admire with thirst
I am not dug up by the nosey animals
who stumble throughout my backyard with fear
of the known, the unknown
my roots will never touch soil
sunlight cannot reach my centre
the taste of my pollen is unknown to the bees

I am not a flower
because I am a hallucination
a fantasy of beauty and marvel
so real, yet so far to touch
I cannot be ripped from my roots due to dirty hands
and a damaged heart
because I am not real
I am the unknown that needs to be solved
the broken which demands to be fixed
the lost, who cannot seem to be found
I am wandering through life barely existing

I am a ghost 
pale skin wrapped in words I can’t remember
feelings I can’t seem to forget
in which no amount of drink can wash away
I am unnoticeable in a crowd of people
unforgettable when I make an appearance into your slumber
I cannot be saved
I am too far gone
but thats the thing about ghosts
their identity is invisible to the naked eye
and so you will abide your entire life believing

I am a flower