roses and tampons

what do you do when your favorite flower becomes something you suddenly dread looking forward and seeing?
when you can only think of your mom and dad and distant family members telling you that you are blossoming into a “young lady” – a thing you never wanted to be in the first place – every single time you look at its petals?
what is there to do when the thing you once found absolute beauty in becomes a thing you grew to despise when you were eleven and have done so since?
when the petals are torn, falling away and no longer the stunning hue you have always admired?
what can you do when the stem has lost its coloring, and it doesn’t give you that feeling that you could never accurately describe with words any longer?
when the crimson-hue of the same type of flower starts to look like the mess you see during “that time of the month” that brings nothing but pain and quite a bit of hatred for being born the way you were?
who can you go to when the very thought of those things brings nothing but sudden sadness, unimaginable pain, and visions of an optimistic future that may never come?
when nothing seems to help you through the dark thoughts your favorite flower seems to drag along with it?
where can you go for peace when they scream at you how you will never be the thing you wish to be, only the “little girl” your parents want you to be?
when you know you will only continue to blossom until you have sprouted into the thing you were always told to be growing up and that you always knew you could never, truly be?
when no one and nothing seems to help with the forever-haunting presence of it, lurking in the very back of your mind and never ceasing to remind you of the times to come that you know could never go the way you want?
what remedies will be effective for the impending sense of disappointment whenever you look down to see those flowers or the things sitting on your chest that weigh what seems like a ton and make you ache all over with a terrible pain?
what do you do when roses become tampons?

Author: Taylor Downs

Downs is the name, being mistaken for a visual artist's the game. Honestly, I don't see the point in this whole bio-thing. But it's a requirement so here we are, I guess. I'm not interesting; I read, write, listen to music and watch Netflix a lot. I absolutely cannot stand the words "y'all" and "ain't." And that's about it, really.

One thought on “roses and tampons”

  1. i feel like this is about both loathing and growing with change and wishing everything wasn’t what it is. Like trying to regain what was lost after having it ripped away?

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