All

If you are strummed as a violin

You will showcase priorities of a grace saved from sin

If you are to be petaled as a flower

You will be plucked and used if not venomous enough

You will rot within mere hours

To cower or to fight back, only your decisions and will decide the power

If you are hung from a tree as a citrus fruit

You will ripen and ooze radiance that with flourish down to each root

Dont let that line get to you,because if it blends deep into your head

You will turn sour, a foul bitterness in your grin

The mead of pride will be your end

Gravely avoided by those who are sweet,

and you will be smothered by others fermented in that same Gin

It is looked down upon,

that route holds a tacky fate to meet

If thoughts pass as that of time

You will decay in the stew of fears

All the opportunities will slow in the grime

And the brew you conjured inside your mind

Will waste all of the chances throughout your years

If the talents you hold begin to tower

Their expectations swell,

your being will be devoured

But do not give in to pressure and dwell,

from all the courage, success will flower

Words are needed, boundries should be set

Take more time for yourself and your mind,

These things will be scary, the scraping of gears will grind

But you must be dour, stick up for yourself

Or the last of wellbeing will be powdered and stored on the shelf

Progress will be made,you reap what you Sow

With time and love all of you can grow