Finally Speaking Up, a Painting.Peonies Poem

Namastē Steemit

This is Painting.Peonies, a United States native.

Painting.Peonies joined Steemit in November 2018 originally to make extra money. After extensive research, she learned that this platform is much more than a means to an end. Steemit is the ultimate platform to both inspire and to be inspired, and with this knowledge she finds herself exponentially more grateful to be part of such a rich and talented community of people from all over planet Earth.
After said research, and exploring nearly every category on Steemit for the past months, inspiration came.

Painting.Peonies would like to tell you a little about herself.

Born in enchantment, to a woman who hadn't quite learned to love her own self, Painting.Peonies was just a touch too much for a new mother of two.
A tiny infant: vulnerable, indefensible and inexcusable, she was sent to a family who was fond of her, they would collectively gift her the love she was royally worthy of.

Two score later, was a new born a hater.
Years of pruning and tuning the perfect daughter had only attracted distracted ghouls straight from house of slaughter.
New Family had no tools except words to offer the daughter.
"Guard your heart, say excuse me when you fart."

These words were null to the delicate flower; for she had been so perfectly shaded.
When exposed to the burn of the sun, she felt not the supposed pleasure, but more like a jaded treasure.
New life wasn't fun so she chose to run, and run, and run.

In awe of this beauty the ghouls and lost souls saw this flowered foal.
Their perfect patootie alone in the forest; the men masked clowns had chased her down.
They ripped off her petals, and carved in her stem, ignorant: not knowing what they did, but thirsty men.
Seeking a drink they couldn't stop to think that a flower is delicate, maybe they shouldn't pick at it.

Yet the flower grew strong, her stem became more and more long,
She healed the scars and began reaching for the stars.
wait...
She forgot to mention all of the tension, it had over the years built from all of the guilt.
She ascribed intent from being bent. She's out of shape, these people could only hate.
The guilt weighed her down, she fell for a clown.

Though she thought it was love, these feelings so strong. She simply couldn't shove them down.
She took blade to herself to score her own skin. New mother told her this act was a sin.
Flower didn't care and chose to no longer share the feelings inside.
In an attempt to hide she cut off her hair after losing a dare.

This new woman had finally shed her damage. Along with it rolled her old baggage.
No longer a delicate flower that needed a pamper! She resisted new tamper by placing a damper just over her heart.
She admits she still bleeds; yet all that emits is soulful art.
She remains free, for the time to be.
A tattoo of a flower servers as a reminder
Today is a gift, that's why it's the 'present,'
Never again will she forget her own power.

Thank you for welcoming me to the Steemit community, and I look forward to connecting with you!