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Creative Writing

Flowers - A Spoken Word Poem

minute read

The pain of diseases hit the patients so hard. Almost as hard as the people in their wake. But with each disease there are symbols that represent them. These flowers are mine.

Flowers - A Spoken Word Poem
March 26, 2024


By Grace Allen (Grade 11)

outside is covered with flowers.

They are blue, and purple, and yellow and red

And those colours transport you to a place unlike the reality 

It is a fairytale; 

but it is only a facade to cover up the desolate interior. 

When the doors push open

It smells almost like a hospital

the buzz of the oxygen tanks and the hum of the aircon 

It makes my heart race faster

The stale air hits my lungs,

bleak colours,

brown are paintings hung on the walls,

And dr phil playing over the tv in the main room.

lifeless people surrounding me;

but it is so much more than the depression it exudes, 

because within these dreary walls holds something close to my heart.

hi there. 

hello who are you? 

the pain of the words makes my mind foggy,

almost as foggy as hers but my world begins to spin,

i forget why i came here just like she forgot who i was;

And they say ignorance is bliss but her ignorance is the cause of my pain 

Then the air escapes my lungs.

i knew it was coming but the reality is all the more painful than what i had in my head.

her mind left her skull;

It escaped and started running for the the hills,

running faster than she can catch up to,

every moment she gets close she loses it again.

running a race to catch up to her memories, her love and her life

But shes running a race she can never win.

they say alzheimer’s is the mind deleting itself; 

erasing memories it wished to forget

But, in the process it erases its entirety 

the disease gets rid of the worst on purpose but the best on accident.

the memories of childhood remain until they can’t any longer

And, memories of loved ones cling on to whatever strand left they can find.

But, ultimately the disease will win

taking every inch of bliss from the people surrounding,

only leaving only ignorance in its place.

those flowers outside the doors no longer remind you of a fairytale. 

they no longer bring life but, only a reminder of death.

a reminder you wish to forget;

A reminder that she could forget just so easily.

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