February's Ending Journey

The path I walked this morning,
Was long and vastly bare.
I thought I had this feeling,
Where peace and comfort pair.

But they were wrongs!
As I found out.
It came in Throngs!
I had to shout.

Why? Why me?!
Art thou too free?

To pester me with these endless pricks.
The pangs, are they your usual tricks?

I wish I knew the answers to all,
But clues were few, the hints appal.

So I gropped and ran, towards the end.
What? the end? I actually knew?
This left? This turn, Or pass this cuving bend?
Behind this road, beyond that hill?

I need the answers, I need the truth!
Before my destination, which i kept always in sight.
Only to realise I had only to disprove
That at the end of the tunnel there is no light.

I stopped, so suddenly,
A step no further.
And all I happened to see,
Was this lonesome flower.

Pick me! Pick me!
It said with glee.

You're crazy! I said, to the yellow one.
You'll die! Without the soil and sun.

But its boring here! I have no friends!
I stood there, aloof, it made some sense.

Before I knew it, I was where I was to be
To regain myself, I had to pause.
To think through this journey, it was no feat lightly.
The reason, the pain, and their undenying cause.

When will it be the time?
Where things all start to rhyme?

Or when it would not have to cower,
That poor, lonely little flower.

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