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Little Blue Flower

By: Mary Bee

By Mary BeePublished 7 years ago 2 min read
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I see darkness then every little second I see flashes of light off in the distances. The flashes start coming faster and faster like the speed of a passing train. I could see shadows of shapes, but the picture was foggy like a blurred camera lens. Then just like that, I am standing in a field. It’s endless with grass, but the grass is burned as if a fire had just swallowed and spit it out. The skies were dark and depressing with strikes of lighting wrapping around it as if it was holding the sunlight captive.

Though as I look around in this dreary and barren place; I spot something in the middle of the field; it was a sad weathered old tree. Everything looks as if it had slowly succumbed to its last breath. I started walking carefully towards the tree. Each step I took felt like every ounce of pain in the world has settled in this one spot.

As I get closer, I see a girl. She’s young, but not too young. Her hair is flat with a faded color of brown. She could be considered pretty if it was for the harsh and enraged features lying on her face. Her hands are clenched so hard you can see the red small indents when she lets go. She looks down at the ground, her face filled with pure hatred.

She gets up and starts to walk toward a spot on the ground. Each step she takes you can feel the air static and tense. She stops in front of a piece of burned grass. I can see her arms tense as if she's ready to throw a punch. Everything in that moment slows; I can tell every minute and second her arm moves, but when she gets to the spot she was aiming for she suddenly stops. All the hate leaves her face; I could see her green eyes clear. She walks back to the tree and sits down as if it's was a simple act, but this time she sits with a smile.

I try to talk, but I can't. Then I realize in this moment, I don't exist. I look back at the spot that made her furious, but I see nothing. But as I look closer under all that burned grass was a simple little blue flower. I can't understand why she could ruin everything else, but not this tiny flower. Then it clicks this flower was her happiness; all of it was, but for a reason, I may never know why this flower meant everything to her. Then like nothing ever happened it vanishes, and I am in darkness again.

artsurreal poetry
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About the Creator

Mary Bee

Hello Everyone,

Welcome to my page! My Name is Mary. I’m 21 years old and an enthusiast of all things " Music, Fashion, and Life". I'm also an actress, model, photographer and dancer who likes exploring new places.

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