The it flowers
There they stand, among the other flowers,
Not lonely, Not Sad, Just plain Emptiness,
Adventurers loved the prohibited flowers,
By their force of habit to bask in glory of unknown.
The ‘it’ flowers, they wanted what others had,
Some ‘it’ wanted to experience the subtle human touch,
Some ‘it’ wanted to be the part of human celebrations,
But Nobody wanted the ‘it’ flower for what they were.
Some ‘it’ were happy with there freedom,
They were lonely but happy,
Some days were gloriously dark,
Some days were miraculously bright.
Those ‘it’ were known as the freedom flowers,
They said, “Freedom is a tough thing”,
When you have it you don’t want it,
When you don’t you die for it.
Freedom flowers were an outcast,
In the group of ‘it’ flower,
The ‘it’ flowers, they wanted to be adored,
They wanted to be “the” jewellery.
Loneliness started getting freedom flowers,
They wanted to be loved, you know deeply,
But they couldn’t do anything about it,
As they were immobile.
Loneliness is a great thing,
People introspect and invent,
Things start to change,
And world never remains same.
Both the ‘it’ and freedom flowers reinvented,
‘It’ flowers became the red rose,
Freedom flowers became the yellow one.
What I wanted to say ?
Loosely I am touching on friendship(freedom, through “yellow rose”), freedom, codependence, and love(jewellery, adored, but occupies a lot of headspace, through “red rose”). This is written so that you don’t go haywire with what the poem implies.