Particles, Petals

The disastrous storm seems to have ceased its horrendous torment. The wind and rain no longer beats down at the withering wildflower. Nevertheless, she's never felt more blue (she's originally yellow) as her mind echoes with questions unanswered.

It's not like she really cares for them to be known yet the little bees in her head are busy at work trying to crack the billion dollar questions they seem to find so important without her conscious blessing. She just wants to lay her bloom down in peace for a few seconds more. Sleep is, however, a privilege that those little bees wish not be hers. She feels deprived.

Walking down the long pathways and around vast spaces of education property, emptiness surrounds her as she remains still while others have long left or are busy heeling by. She knows everything will be fine for one day when the last petal falls the wind will blow them far away to a beautiful place where her people grows in abundance in endless fields.

Thud. Her heart drops to the pits painfully as reality slips in silently to remind her of its existence. Silently she weeps as she prays hard for her petals to drop a speed faster.

Uncontrollable. She gasps as little fragments, her heart within burst further into particles so small even bacteria fail to compete in size. No one knows pain till pain is felt. Particles so small takes no form. All attempts to restore will end in vain.

Tears unshed, cries unheard. The withering wildflower smiles. Perishing, her heart and form seem like life's best choice.