See the withered rose. Trying to become young again and perfect and pretty, because that is all that brings sense to her existence. A withered rose is worth nothing. Go back and be a blossom, that’s the only way you want to be seen, no matter what is inside.
this is bs everytime i refresh the page it keeps on going back to this and I think it’s pretty annoying. Withered is a word used for dying or dead things, like plants, feelings, and just everything at it’s worst point. If you leave something long enough it will wither away and die.
she watched the flower wither away and wonder if one day, she too, will wither away like that. her beauty, her health, her brightness, slowly disappearing.
she wonders if someone will keep a petal of her to remember her by, she hopes so.
My courage has withered in the face of our lives collapsing because someone made a choice that would impact my entire family for years to come. Keep fighting, I tell myself. Keep going. But I am tired and ready to rest.
Decay. Gone. Cast off from the rest of society, no longer as beautiful as you once were, in the beginning. A rose, left out in the sun for too long; nobody attending to it’s everyday needs.
In that moment she knew that she could no longer stand tall like the stalk of a flower. Her soul became dull and she was only able to watch as the person she once believed she was withered away in to pieces in the air. She was lost in a world where nothing made sense.
That’s exactly how I felt yesterday. I was just wallowing in self-pity, thinking that I was a failure. Like all of my insides had withered up and I just wanted the whole world to swallow me. But then I called my boyfriend and he told me to man up; there are people starving in the world, so why was I crying?
She was once so proud.
She stood tall, in her blue dress,
Hands, face, smooth as cream.
Now she puts down the frame and
Sighs.
Now, she sits alone.
Her hands, face, withered with time.
I withered away into my own self being,
my own wallowing,
my own pity.
But how can I , simply and unutterably depressed,
become a daisy in a patch of well,
other daisy’s.
I do not wish to be different,
but merely bluntly
the same.
I watched as the life I lived withered away and became nothing more than an empty husk of what I had hoped it would one day be. Time moved on, and so did she. As fate would have it, that’s the beginning of the story though.
Like a flower. Old, decaying, lost beauty. Something so lovely and precious wilts right before you eyes. Yet theres still such a desire to stare, and see such a natural process happen right before your eyes.
Slither away as the cold, harsh world closes in. Fly away as the merciless giants stomp by. Go deep under as the solid concretes are built over. Hide, fly, dig. Before we all find things withered.
The plant slowly withered away from not being kept properly. Annie knew that there was nothing else to do, but to let it die. If only she could had kept better care of the plant.
His hand drooped in disappointment. His whole body seemed to collapse from the inside and his frame withered, just like a dying flower. Even in such a state of utter depression, his posture held an elegance, only seen in the eye of one trained to view the smallest gestures of beauty.
She was exaggerating, of course. He was merely pretending to be a piece of melting cheese.
This is how every inside of her being felt when she watched him walk away. She was withered. She was slowly dying. She was falling. And there was no saving her this time.
The flowers that you left me withered it time. Don’t worry they lasted longer than I expected. But they lay withered in that clear vase that you left with me too. Now I stare at them everyday. I bet they stare at how I am withered too.
Aleksandar lay down on the cold wooden floor of his cabin. His hands curled around the soft leather cover of an old book of his as he lay, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He felt cold, empty… just as he should be. Just as everyone thought of him as: a terror, a nightmare. He was just that.
withered into nothing,
wilted like the garden last autumn,
waiting for me
is like wanting the world to end.
withering away,
day by day by day,
withering away
until you’re left lifeless.
I feel withered. So withered I could fall over and die. But this place, this choice, I am at right now, is just one more defining factor in who I am. I what makes me who I am. Because we are not the result but we are the process in which we get to the result; we are our choices.
Homered
See the withered rose. Trying to become young again and perfect and pretty, because that is all that brings sense to her existence. A withered rose is worth nothing. Go back and be a blossom, that’s the only way you want to be seen, no matter what is inside.
The grass became dry and shivelled; it had withered to an unappealing brown
This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper.
Withering is the worst fate that can possibly befall any of the grander things of life. Go out with a bang.
this is bs everytime i refresh the page it keeps on going back to this and I think it’s pretty annoying. Withered is a word used for dying or dead things, like plants, feelings, and just everything at it’s worst point. If you leave something long enough it will wither away and die.
i knew a girl who grew up
before she grew old
she used to be sweet, but the world
spat on her face, leaked bitterness
in her mouth
a day before she turned twenty-five
she looked her future in the eye
and said,
“that’s enough, life.
that’s enough.”
she watched the flower wither away and wonder if one day, she too, will wither away like that. her beauty, her health, her brightness, slowly disappearing.
she wonders if someone will keep a petal of her to remember her by, she hopes so.
My courage has withered in the face of our lives collapsing because someone made a choice that would impact my entire family for years to come. Keep fighting, I tell myself. Keep going. But I am tired and ready to rest.
Decay. Gone. Cast off from the rest of society, no longer as beautiful as you once were, in the beginning. A rose, left out in the sun for too long; nobody attending to it’s everyday needs.
In that moment she knew that she could no longer stand tall like the stalk of a flower. Her soul became dull and she was only able to watch as the person she once believed she was withered away in to pieces in the air. She was lost in a world where nothing made sense.
That’s exactly how I felt yesterday. I was just wallowing in self-pity, thinking that I was a failure. Like all of my insides had withered up and I just wanted the whole world to swallow me. But then I called my boyfriend and he told me to man up; there are people starving in the world, so why was I crying?
She was once so proud.
She stood tall, in her blue dress,
Hands, face, smooth as cream.
Now she puts down the frame and
Sighs.
Now, she sits alone.
Her hands, face, withered with time.
hey i like you
hey do you hate me
I withered away into my own self being,
my own wallowing,
my own pity.
But how can I , simply and unutterably depressed,
become a daisy in a patch of well,
other daisy’s.
I do not wish to be different,
but merely bluntly
the same.
I watched as the life I lived withered away and became nothing more than an empty husk of what I had hoped it would one day be. Time moved on, and so did she. As fate would have it, that’s the beginning of the story though.
Like a flower. Old, decaying, lost beauty. Something so lovely and precious wilts right before you eyes. Yet theres still such a desire to stare, and see such a natural process happen right before your eyes.
i am so very withered. i feel like the flower still sitting in the vase that needed to be let out days ago.
and i withered and cast my self. Im drowning in a sea. I shall break down and surrender myself to keep my sanity.
Slither away as the cold, harsh world closes in. Fly away as the merciless giants stomp by. Go deep under as the solid concretes are built over. Hide, fly, dig. Before we all find things withered.
The plant slowly withered away from not being kept properly. Annie knew that there was nothing else to do, but to let it die. If only she could had kept better care of the plant.
His hand drooped in disappointment. His whole body seemed to collapse from the inside and his frame withered, just like a dying flower. Even in such a state of utter depression, his posture held an elegance, only seen in the eye of one trained to view the smallest gestures of beauty.
She was exaggerating, of course. He was merely pretending to be a piece of melting cheese.
This is how every inside of her being felt when she watched him walk away. She was withered. She was slowly dying. She was falling. And there was no saving her this time.
The flowers that you left me withered it time. Don’t worry they lasted longer than I expected. But they lay withered in that clear vase that you left with me too. Now I stare at them everyday. I bet they stare at how I am withered too.
Testing.
Aleksandar lay down on the cold wooden floor of his cabin. His hands curled around the soft leather cover of an old book of his as he lay, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He felt cold, empty… just as he should be. Just as everyone thought of him as: a terror, a nightmare. He was just that.
withered into nothing,
wilted like the garden last autumn,
waiting for me
is like wanting the world to end.
withering away,
day by day by day,
withering away
until you’re left lifeless.
I feel withered. So withered I could fall over and die. But this place, this choice, I am at right now, is just one more defining factor in who I am. I what makes me who I am. Because we are not the result but we are the process in which we get to the result; we are our choices.
flowers after a long day of scorching sunlight. An old lady after her life is complete and she has nowhere left to go but up. withered. faded.