From dirt to craft
Isn’t that how we all start
and the potter exerts
Their life form in our being
Beautiful patterns
Unique to our soul
Different colours
we vases all glow

But
Someone somewhere said
A vase is incomplete
Without flowers to wilt

We are hollow
but maybe we are, by nature,
incomplete by design,
why else do we have this hole inside?

A vessel for decoration
Roses and daisies
We’re nothing without validation
The promises of beauty
We are invincible
Empty without flowers
We are only ourselves
when we crack, break, and shatter
It’s never us they water
It’s their dishonesty
They believe we need petals
We are slaves in our dynasty
So we believe it too

What is a vase without flowers?
Our beauty no matter how radiant
Is nothing without obedience
Conformity is our reality
We’ve become a distraction
With our destruction
in the form of beautiful plants

We are all vases
Promised to be more
But asked to be less
Promised divinity
For overwriting identity

From craft to dirt
The buyer is heartless
When did we consent
To sell our existence
For wilting persistence?

~ Roméon 🪴~