Dread

Dread

By Justin Rodriguez

There is a seed growing inside me.

A flower I planted with petals that shine the color of the future.
And when the flower is grown, I will be happy.
I will be really happy.

so I water the seed, every day.
The water that flows through my being,
I give to the seed.
Every day.

And soon the roots take hold,
and the stem sprouts,
but the petals never bloom;
their shine kept hidden away.

but soon I realized,
I planted the wrong seed.
It wasn’t a flower growing,
It was a weed.

And so I stopped watering it.

But it was too late.
Further and further the roots had spread,
reaching to my toes and reaching to my head.
They tangled and tied with my nerves and my veins,
taking all the water they could until I was drained.

The stem grew larger and larger until it covered my eyes,
keeping me blind to everything in my life.
It was too thick for any shears, blades, or pruners,
too strong for even the sharpest knife.

I could feel the seed,
or the bud, the pit, or the nut,
heavy with sorrow,
sink deeper into my gut.

And it was then that I knew:
When the weed is grown, I will be sad.
I will be really sad.