i used to be a withered flower-either died or dying, i felt nothing.

i used to be that one unwanted leaf-either ugly or mess, i feel worthless.

i used to be a dot on a clean white surface-either irritating or attention-seeker, i feel bitter.

ironically, a wild sun that is oddly darker than the dark itself made its entrant in my long dead paradise declaring that my uninspiring petals inspired him to live another night of his days.

just like a magic spell casted upon my withered entity, everything brightened up and rainbows and butterflies are everywhere.

it might be that the dark sun has been saved; it might be that the withered flower has been saved-either way, they both brought light in each sights.