Inside the painted-glass vase, given by love
Lies the mango seeds full of life
Within each root grows patience
That grow little leaves of hope
The leaves billowing as they grow
Through time, they aged
Yet the essence of patience still lingers
Even when they dry from lack of hydrating-affection
Of being heard and seen by the sun
The roots raged as they grow
Tapping the glass vase for freedom
As the mango tree feels trapped
With nowhere to grow
As the entrapment grew
So did the branches full of unsuitable thorns
That whisper pain within the chilling breeze
Suffocating the roots and leaves
Living in a vase they don’t belong
To the pounding of broken promises
The vase cracks to reveal black rivers
Which leak the last left of joy
And the last left of life
Within every snip of killing thorns to let it breathe,
The tiring energy from the heart to seal the cracks,
For every spray of pesticide, mistaken for love and affection,
It slowly starts to rust, underneath the healing light
Love, the very owner of the painted-glass vase,
Saw the unwanted branches of hateful thorns
Thought that a spray of belief will help grow the fruit
Without a thought of me wanting more
Than the illusion of warmth
Spray by spray my thorns have grown
To penetrate every will of growth
To spread death, within the leaves full of life
And the misplaced thorns continue to puncture emotion
As I suffocate within the painted-glass vase
My love wouldn’t let me grow, through fear of broken promises
Fear of sacrifice accomplishing defeat
Instead of a promising fruitful-victory
Yet the tiring energy left can grow dying sprouts
Only beauty but not to feed my starving love
I feel myself as not enough
Unable to grow the very fruit I promised to succeed
When I’m supposed to grow
Within a cramped painted vase
That my love has given to me for a home that penetrates my truth
This is a poem I wrote based on what I’m feeling at home with all the pressure about going to college and slowly becoming the person I would expect myself to be. Throughout the process of writing I wanted to have an expression of how you feel when your family has high expectations of you so that’s where the metaphor of a tree trying to grow in a vase came from. Then it all comes together when I add details like “pesticide mistaken as affection” as a sign to be given the wrong type of care from people you trust as they don’t understand your kind of suffering or grief. The way I’ve continued with this structure is by having my motifs: growth, fruit, roots, love, branches, leaves, and thorns.