Just a Flower (A Poem)

Once upon a time, there was a flower. This story will
not make sense since its protagonist is a flower. Are you
bored yet? So am I. I don't know what I'm writing. Best to
end it here.

But no, I must continue the story.

Once, there was a flower. Should I go describing the flower?
Should I create the setting of the story first? Or should I
directly go to the plot and then the climax to get this story
done with. It's not working because I keep typing my thoughts
along the way. The plot is a long way to go.

Anyway, this flower, it's in my head. It wants to be typed
out here. It wants to get out of my head. It has five petals. I'm
thinking purple. What type? You guess.

This isn't really about a flower. It's about me. How everything
isn't going too well. What makes me say that? Everything is
fine. But my mind says it isn't. I must find out why.

The flower starts to wilt from the cold, petal's edges
turning brown as time passes.

Just like me, just like all of us. Time is fast, time is slow, and
it is passing. I hate it when I can't express myself without
writing. I can't speak. I'm not good at impromptu.

One petal falls off. So do I as I jump from the bridge that I
keep imagining myself jumping from. Below the bridge is a
river. I don't know if it is deep... enough.

I never reach the water. Because the flower's stalk is still
standing, browning. The flower is dead, and I am not.
But maybe someday, I hope soon.