Flowers begin,

Anew, every spring.

We see the buds,

The beginnings, filled with promise.

Then they go into full bloom,

Full beauty.

This is brief,

For, not long after,

They fall, and wither,

Forgotten, like the flowers of last spring.

Like a Nobody.

Like me.

XIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXI

Eh, this is kind of rough, but better than the version that was sitting in here a few days before I fixed it up. I don't care if you review or not.

-M.N.